


LoneWolf is Live

by meyghasa (aazeris)



Series: Adventures of LoneWolf and ladykiller69 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aazeris/pseuds/meyghasa
Summary: Twitch streamer and YouTube content creator Felix never started this for fame.  He refuses to do a face reveal and shares nothing about his life with his viewers.  Sylvain is quite possibly his biggest fan.When Felix shows up at the restaurant Sylvain works at, Sylvain is almost positive that his dreams of meeting LoneWolf have been realized.  He can't be sure, though, and he respects LoneWolf's need for privacy.  Will that stop Sylvain from flirting his heart out?  Absolutely not.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Adventures of LoneWolf and ladykiller69 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804999
Comments: 224
Kudos: 590





	1. One

Felix doesn’t own a webcam.

Oh sure, his laptop has one built-in, but in his paranoia he has plastered a strip of black electrical tape over it. You know, just in case. But his gaming rig, the one he uses to stream, has no webcam at all. 

He never did this to be IRL famous. He doesn’t want people to approach him on the street. He doesn’t want people to turn and look at him when he passes by on the sidewalk. He doesn’t want pointing and whispers and people throwing themselves at his feet just because he happens to be a successful internet celebrity. The thought of that much attention, from _strangers_ no less, makes his stomach turn.

So he doesn’t have a webcam, and he never reveals personal details about himself aside from a very general slip-up of “In Fhirdiad I--”. Goddess, how people had gone nuts that day. The Wikitubia article had been updated in, no lie, ten minutes. Honestly, he’s surprised it wasn’t even faster. 

He’s been more careful since then. The most anyone has gotten is frequent talks about his cat. Felix loves the shit out of his cat, and he will share the fact that he loves the shit out of his cat with anyone who will listen. He figures that is generic enough that no one will figure out who he is through it. He hopes, anyway.

Felix joked one time with Annette that once he hit three million subscribers on YouTube, he would do a face reveal. But then he had crept over the two million mark and three million seemed actually _possible_ and he backed off that joke so fast it made her head spin. 

Being a YouTuber and Twitch streamer is a lot of work. He streams three times a week and uploads every day, barring emergencies. He doesn’t sleep much, and his social life is practically nonexistent, but he still finds time to go to the gym with Caspar a couple times a week and go on solo morning jogs. The rest of the time he is hunched over his keyboard (Annette often chides him for his poor posture), blinking past the burn of too many hours staring at a monitor, playing or editing or streaming.

Honestly, when he started this as a laugh four years ago, he had no idea it would actually end up being a _successful_ venture. Ashe had mentioned that Felix was unflappable while the two of them and Annette had played Silent Hill 2 - well, Felix played and Annette and Ashe curled up into each other and screamed at anything remotely frightening. 

“Seriously,” Ashe said after they finished one of their gaming sessions. “Nothing scares you, but your commentary is really funny. Just think about it.”

So he thought about it, and he decided to try it, and it worked. He is known for dry humor and very, very rarely being scared by any of the various horror games he works through and, occasionally when it is very late and most of his viewers have logged off to go to bed, giving great advice to those who remain. His popularity grew, and so did his community, and now here he is.

His community is amazing. He will be the first one to admit it. They are generous and, despite having quite a few sardonic characters who gravitated to Felix because he is kind of an asshole, kind to each other. Felix likes to convince himself that he has something to do with this. “Just because I’m an asshole doesn’t mean you should be,” he says one day after a fight breaks out while he’s streaming Dead By Daylight. “Be nice to each other. We’re a community.” Shockingly, this actually works, diffusing the situation while also prompting much better future behavior from his viewers.

They always ask him for a face reveal, and they always ask him for details about his life, but Felix has no webcam and no desire for fame and so he says he is 148 years old and looks like Bon Jovi. It becomes an inside joke between him and his viewers.

\---

_LoneWolf is live: Insert description here._

Sylvain looks down at his phone with a grin. He’s been preparing: making a snack, getting a drink, setting up his blanket nest on the couch. This is his routine, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday without fail - well, as long as nothing gets in the way - for three years. 

He found LoneWolf by accident thanks to YouTube’s algorithm. “There’s an awesome new game you should try,” Claude had said one night, and Sylvain being Sylvain, he decided to look up some strats before trying it so that he didn’t look like a complete scrub. Always be prepared, he said, and reputation is everything. 

Well, sort of. His reputation with the ladies isn’t exactly sterling, but that doesn’t stop him from getting dates, does it?

Anyway. One of LoneWolf’s videos popped up in his recommended and he figured, hey, what the hell. What he was not prepared for was the silkiest, grumpiest voice he had ever heard, the sharp wit, and the dry-in-the-perfect-way humor. The gameplay was good too, of course, but it was the commentary that made Sylvain go to LoneWolf’s channel and spend the next week binge-watching his content.

LoneWolf quickly became Sylvain’s favorite streamer. Even better, their schedules match up almost perfectly, Sylvain coming home from his job at the fancy tapas place half an hour before each stream is to begin. He stays up until the end of each stream - at least, when life doesn’t demand that he rest his eyes for a bit - finding himself especially drawn to the softer moments at the end of the streams when LoneWolf drops the sarcasm (mostly) and spends some time chatting with the viewers that have stuck around.

Sylvain is desperate to know what he looks like. A voice that sinful has to be attached to a face just so. Whenever Sylvain finds his thoughts wandering down this trail, however, he quickly shuts himself down with the harsh reality that LoneWolf is an internet celebrity he will never meet, and not to mention probably at least half of his viewers are just as thirsty for him. And then Sylvain will go off to find someone to get his dick wet, because he doesn’t know how to make responsible life choices, and he will forget about it until the next stream day rolls around and he finds himself harboring the same stupid crush for a snarky voice on the internet he’s been nurturing for almost three years.

It’s ridiculous, when you think about it, and Sylvain does, often.

He boots up the PlayStation 4 and opens the Twitch app, scrolling over to LoneWolf’s channel and hitting X to play. A plain “Live Soon” scrolls across the screen over a background Sylvain recognizes as one of the Dead By Daylight art stills. Soft electronica plays while everyone waits. Chat is slowly filling up, people trickling in as they notice the alert that LoneWolf is live, and Sylvain snuggles up in his blanket nest, holding a mug of tea close to his chest. He’s not feeling particularly chatty tonight, which is why he’s watching on the PlayStation and not his laptop.

It doesn’t take long for LoneWolf’s voice to echo through the apartment. “Evening, everybody. Are we ready for some Resident Evil Resistance?”

A smile rises unbidden to Sylvain’s face, and it stays firmly in place until the stream ends around 3:00 a.m. and he heads to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in Sylvix hell. Heaven? I don't know.
> 
> Anyway, I present this humble offering as my introduction into the Sylvix fandom, with the caveat that as silly as this idea is, at least it isn't the "Sylvain and Felix die together on the battlefield in EXCRUCIATING DETAIL" fic I was originally inspired to write.
> 
> Everything I know about Twitch streaming and YouTube content creating comes from Ohmwrecker (my favorite streamer) kindly talking about these things on his streams. Felix is heavily, heavily influenced by my other favorite YouTuber, John Wolfe. Check these guys out if you want a good time.
> 
> The rating on this might go up depending on how the story shakes out. We'll see.
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/snarkyperson) (occasionally) and [Tumblr](http://aazeris.tumblr.com) (even more rarely). Come talk to me about Fire Emblem.


	2. Two

Sylvain doesn’t have to be at work until 4:00 p.m., and he wakes up feeling refreshed and energized. This seems to be a recurring theme after watching LoneWolf’s streams. 

Last night the streamer had spent half an hour talking down a viewer who had been torn between what he wanted to do (art) and what his parents wanted him to do (law enforcement). LoneWolf had taken a while to get to the point but finally he had given up, his mask slipping a little, and snapped, “Just do what you want. Fuck your parents. They can get over it. Trust me, I know how you feel.”

As someone who had also long ago followed this same advice, Sylvain feels a kinship.

Sylvain makes himself a to-go mug of tea and breezes out of the apartment. The restaurant, GM Brewery, is about a 15 minute walk from home, and the owner Hanneman is a pretty cool, if eccentric and _very_ passionate about food, dude, and there is no shortage of very pretty (and very handsome) patrons to hit on, and the tips are good, and his roommate Claude also works there, so the place is pretty much perfect. 

He sips his tea as he walks. It is the most perfect October day, warm enough that he needs a jacket but not cold enough for his peacoat, bright blue skies, no clouds. His already buoyant mood only rises the further he walks. 

He is legitimately delighted to have something in common with LoneWolf, and he is not ignorant of the fact that he is most definitely overblowing this whole thing. Even so, he’s not going to look a gift good mood in the mouth. 

It’s Thursday, so the restaurant is pretty quiet. Not so quiet he has nothing to do, but quiet enough that he can spend a little extra time at the tables chatting it up and being charming, as he tends to do. Claude rolls his eyes goodnaturedly and lets him do his thing.

Sylvain is just getting to the part where her skin is absolutely _luminous_ in the candlelight when he hears it.

That voice. _That voice._

There is no fucking way.

He stumbles over his words and can’t even find it in himself to course correct. Instead he spins around, his eyes wide, and looks over the patrons nearby. 

“I just don’t see why I have to meet up with him if I don’t want to. He hates it and I hate it,” says an _extremely_ attractive man with sharp features and the most beautiful raven hair and _that voice Sylvain hears in his dreams sometimes_. He unwraps a scarf from around his neck and drapes it over the back of the chair, then shucks his coat. 

As he slides into the chair, Sylvain notices the absolutely adorable girl he’s with. Red hair, so similar to his own, pulled into matching pigtails. A smattering of freckles across her nose. A cute green dress topped with a black coat. She looks so _pure_ , and she’s smiling at LoneWolf - because it _has_ to be him, _has to be_ \- with the sweetest smile ever. 

His date? Sylvain’s stomach sinks, though it has absolutely no right to. His date.

“He doesn’t hate it,” she says, ever so slightly chiding. “He’s your dad, Fe. You should at least try. Maybe it’ll be fun!”

LoneWolf - Fe? - huffs and rolls his eyes. “Right. Fun.”

Sylvain comes back to himself when someone tugs on his sleeve. He blinks twice, glancing down to see the cutie he had been flirting with raising both eyebrows at him and giving him a distinct what-the-fuck? glare. He smiles, coming up just short of dashing based on her flat look, and takes out his pen and pad. “Sorry, gorgeous,” he demures. “What can I get you?”

Claude is just heading over to LoneWolf’s table when Sylvain hurries to intercept him. He grabs him by the elbow and steers him to the machine they use to punch in orders. Claude barely has opened his mouth to ask what the hell has gotten into him when Sylvain interrupts.

“Let me get that table,” he says. Begs. Pleads with all his strength. 

Claude looks over his shoulder at the table in question, then turns his attention back to Sylvain with a confused look. “Ooookay,” he draws out. “Why? Weren’t you getting cozy with 13?”

It’s not that Claude doesn’t know about Sylvain’s three-day-a-week schedule with LoneWolf. He even knows, thanks to one night of too much whisky, about his burgeoning crush on the damn guy. But Sylvain pauses, thinks back to all the times LoneWolf has mentioned his desire for privacy, and for once in his life holds his tongue before it can cause trouble. 

“The redhead’s cute, isn’t she?” Sylvain tries instead, aiming for casual as he folds up both arms behind his head. “13 is nothing to those pigtails.”

Claude definitely doesn’t buy it, but he goes along with it anyway. “Sure thing, buddy,” he says, clapping Sylvain on the shoulder. “Go get ‘er.”

Sylvain tries for a strong chuckle but ends up with a weak “ha ha ha” that has one of Claude’s eyebrows shooting up for his hairline. He pretends not to notice.

Squaring his shoulders, he strides across the dining room and simultaneously tries to calm his nerves. For some reason, this is the single most terrifying thing he has ever done. Him! The same Sylvain who has charmed dozens of men and women into his life and his bed is terrified to speak, just _speak_ , to one harmless man. Ridiculous.

He breezes up to the table with his most award-winning smile firmly in place. “Evening, lovely friends,” he simpers. LoneWolf ignores him in favor of staring at the menu in his hands but the lady looks up at him with a bright smile. 

“Good evening!” she says, so tooth-achingly cheerful that Sylvain is finding it impossible to hate her. Her eyes even squint a little with the force of her smile, damnit. 

“Can I get you anything to drink? I have a few special recommendations if you’re interested.” Sylvain drops a wink, but LoneWolf still isn’t paying attention to him.

“I’d like a glass of merlot, please!” the date says. She and Sylvain both stare at LoneWolf, waiting, until she coughs pointedly. He looks up like he’s been pulled out of very deep thoughts, then looks over at Sylvain.

Sylvain has seen a lot of movies and read a lot of books. Among this media has been a lot of romance, because Sylvain considers himself an expert on romance thanks to years of study and practice. He has witnessed countless trite openings of _their eyes met and it was like the world stopped_ or whatever, and he has rolled his eyes at each one. He has never once met the eyes of someone and felt an instant, life-changing connection. He doesn’t believe it’s possible.

Until now.

He and LoneWolf lock eyes and it feels like the restaurant around them just falls away. Sylvain can’t even blink. He’s sucked into twin shining pools of amber and stays there, eyes wide and searching, willing LoneWolf to be feeling this same pull, this same tug deep in his chest, that he’s feeling now. 

The world disappears, that is, until the date delicately coughs again and ruins the moment. Sylvain reconsiders whether he can hate her or not, especially when LoneWolf jerks like he’s been shocked and the most beautiful pink blush dusts across his high cheekbones. He was definitely affected too. He had to be. Why else would he be blushing like that? Right?

The date laughs, light and musical, and rolls her eyes. “He’ll have a rum and coke,” she says cheerfully, as if Sylvain’s world hasn’t just done a complete 180. 

Impressing himself, Sylvain pulls himself together admirably and pulls his winning smile back out. This time he aims it at LoneWolf _and_ the date. LoneWolf doesn’t quite meet his gaze, but his intent concentration on the menu definitely seems to be broken.

“I’ll go get those for you,” Sylvain says before walking away. It takes a monumental act of will not to glance over his shoulder, especially when he hears the redhead start to whisper across the table. 

Claude is standing with his arms folded, leaning against the bar, when Sylvain approaches and puts the order in with the bartender. He gives Sylvain a Look, like he knows exactly what he’s up to, even though Sylvain knows there’s no way he could. He thinks, anyway. He’s 90% sure.

“You look completely starstruck,” Claude grins as Sylvain settles with his back against the bar to wait for their drinks. “What’s gotten into you?”

He wants to tell him. _God_ he wants to tell him. And maybe he will, later when he’s downed half a bottle of tequila to make sure he sleeps tonight, because he’s not sure that the sight of those cheekbones and the choppy black hair pulled up into a messy bun will ever let him sleep again.

“Okay, okay,” Sylvain says quietly. “I think I know that guy. It’s a long story - don’t ask.”

Claude’s shiteating grin doesn’t dim. “He’s pretty hot, too.”

Sylvain is _not_ blushing, for christ’s sake. This is absolutely ridiculous. “Well sure,” he says breezily. “I’m not above another notch on the old bedpost, right?”

This does make Claude’s grin fade, and Sylvain knows it’s because a glimpse of the neverending self-hatred Sylvain has been dealing with in therapy for a year has made itself known in the intentionally casual lilt of his words.

“Sylvain…” Claude begins, but the bartender interrupts with the order.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sylvain says with a slightly more sincere smile. He grabs the two glasses and heads back over to the table.

“And here we go,” he says, placing the drinks in front of their respective owners. “Any questions about the menu? Or are we ready to order?”

“Everything looks so good, it’s hard to pick!” the redhead giggles. “Right, Fe?”

Sylvain swears he sees her kick him under the table. He jumps, just barely, and twists a finger in the cuff of his sleeve. “Uh, yeah.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here to guide you,” Sylvain says smoothly, with another wink. He then launches into a tirade he’s memorized for months now, going into the different dishes and what pairs with what etc. etc. LoneWolf has been staring at him, mouth pressed in a thin line, as he talks, and the redhead bobs her head at everything he suggests. Sylvain leans down, way too far into LoneWolf’s space to be socially appropriate, and stage whispers, “If you want my advice, though, try the croquettes. They are just…” He kisses his fingers with a flourish, then grins and stands back up. 

The date orders a few plates for them, and although she keeps asking LoneWolf for his opinion, the most response she gets is, “Order whatever you want, I don’t really care.” 

Sylvain can’t tell if he’s annoyed, upset, or kind of a dick.

He decides to back off on the flirting - for the moment. It’s not being received well, not to mention he _is_ with a date, and for once in his goddamn life this is a potential--what, relationship? Hookup? Fling? Whatever it could be, Sylvain really doesn’t want to fuck it up this time.

This is a direct contradiction to what his brain is screaming, _You might not have another chance! Make this count!_ But, contrary to what his friends might tell you, sometimes Sylvain can control the flirtatious monster that dwells within.

He delivers their food with only a little witty banter with the redhead, LoneWolf having visibly retreated into himself. He clears their plates and brings the check, which he notes LoneWolf takes before the date can. When he goes to swipe the credit card, he can’t help but look.

Felix. Felix Fraldarius. Sylvain can feel his heartbeat in his ears. Now he has a name to moan when he’s jacking off tonight--uh, not that he’ll be doing that.

When he comes back to the table, the redhead is absent and LoneWolf - no, Felix - is tapping his fingers on the tabletop and looking out the window. Sylvain sets the receipt, a pen, and his credit card in front of him. Once again Felix jolts out of his thoughts, then frowns and looks embarrassed about it.

As Felix picks up the pen, Sylvain would leave, but…

“I’m sorry,” Felix says shortly, eyes glued to the receipt.

“Beg pardon?”

Felix looks up, as if it takes a herculean effort, and huffs. “I said I’m sorry. For how I’ve been acting tonight. I’m not usually so--” He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s just been a shit day. I shouldn’t be a jackass to you when you’re doing your job.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Sylvain assures him with an easy smile. “But if you really want to make it up to me, why don’t you come back? I’ll give you the preferred customer discount.” Which doesn’t exist, except now, and only for Felix. Sylvain will pay out of his own pocket for it. He pauses, then adds after a moment, “You can bring your girlfriend.”

The full-body jerk of horror is almost comical. “My _what_?”

Sylvain tilts his head curiously. “The redhead? I mean, I was just assuming.”

“Annie is my friend from high school,” Felix retorts. His expression still mirrors someone who has just eaten six day old fish. “She is also engaged.” A pause. “To someone else.”

Really, the flush of relief coursing through Sylvain’s veins is ridiculous and completely uncalled for. That, however, doesn’t stop it from rushing through him. “My mistake,” he smiles. The charm is creeping back up to him. He holds his hand out. “I’m Sylvain, by the way.”

Felix stares at his hand, then back up at his face, then his hand again. After a few moments of hesitation he slips his hand into Sylvain’s and shakes. His skin is soft, cool to the touch, and absolutely electrifying. Sylvain has to physically suppress a shudder.

“Sylvain,” Felix murmurs his name, and it sounds like a kiss on his tongue. That murmur is going to haunt Sylvain’s dreams for weeks, he knows it.

“Are you ready, Fe?”

Felix drops his hand like he’s been scalded and looks behind Sylvain, where _not his girlfriend_ Annie stands wearing a secret smile. “Yeah,” he says. He stands, wraps himself back up in his layers, and looks at Sylvain. He is shorter than Sylvain, but lean and compact like a panther. Sylvain desperately wants to see him naked. You know, just to appreciate him. Not for any other reason.

For a moment, Felix seems uncertain of what to do. He is standing very close to Sylvain, the latter not having moved from out of his space when he stood up, and Sylvain can smell faint traces of citrus. “Well, uh,” Felix says, not meeting Sylvain’s eyes. “Thanks.”

Sylvain forcibly pushes away a fantasy of wrapping a lock of Felix’s hair around one finger and smiles. “Any time. Don’t forget the discount.” He steps back, out of Felix’s orbit, and Felix and Annie leave the restaurant. In the single most tragic moment of Sylvain’s life, Felix does not glance over his shoulder at him when he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely blown away by the support for this fic. Maybe it's because I'm usually posting in dead fandoms, but I had no idea there would be so much interest in this idea when I came up with it at three in the morning a few days ago. I very much hope I am doing everyone justice and that you continue to enjoy. 
> 
> I won't promise that I will keep updating every day but I guess I was inspired today and couldn't help but sit down and pound out this chapter.
> 
> A sneak peek into next chapter: angst and Dimitri! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Three

The next stream, the following night, is a special kind of hell for Sylvain.

It’s not that the stream is less entertaining than usual. Felix seems even wittier, even funnier, even dryer than usual and it is a delight to listen to him. He is absolutely crushing it in Left 4 Dead 2. Everything is going great.

Great, except now Sylvain can picture Felix leaning in towards his monitor, his brow furrowed in concentration. He can picture amber eyes laser-focused on the game. He can picture the delicate twist of his lips as he plays. The smooth, low tone of his voice is amplified by a thousand now that Sylvain actually knows what the man _looks like_ , let alone how _unfairly attractive_ said man is.

So, he’s feeling restless. He’s enjoying himself, but he’s so distracted that he can barely keep up with the game. Claude is at the restaurant so he has the apartment to himself, but he’s still cooped up in his room, sprawled out on his bed, lounging with his laptop propped open next to him. 

It definitely isn’t the first time he has thought this, but having Felix’s voice washing over him while he lies in bed, even if he’s just talking about zombies and shotguns, is a special kind of enticing.

Sylvain bites his bottom lip against the traitorous thoughts running through his brain. He shouldn’t. He _shouldn’t_. It was bad enough when Felix was just a voice on the internet, but now that there’s a man connected to the voice, it would be _so wrong_ in _so many ways_.

That doesn’t stop his hand from mutinying, sliding down his chest to the waistband of his sweatpants. He hesitates for a whole ten seconds, wrestling with his conscience, before he slips his hand under the elastic and runs his palm over the bulge in his underwear. He’s half-hard already, just from Felix’s voice, and a couple of rough fondles has him swelling to full. Squirming his hips, he manages to shuffle his sweatpants and underwear down over his ass to mid-thigh, leaving himself exposed to the room’s cool air.

“Fucking witch,” Felix snarls as Sylvain trails his fingers up the underside of his cock. 

Sylvain lets his eyes drift closed as he circles his dick and starts to lazily stroke himself. His mind wanders, his imagination working in conjunction with the voice playing over his laptop speakers. He wonders if Felix would be a soft lover, then huffs a quiet laugh. No way. Not with that mouth. Thoughts of _that mouth_ take a turn of their own as Sylvain envisions Felix mouthing along his cock, or sucking bruises on his thighs, or biting his neck hard enough to leave a mark. 

Little electric currents of pleasure run stronger down his spine the further he lets his imagination wander. Felix laid out underneath him, his lean, compact body and all that smooth, pale skin on display for Sylvain and Sylvain alone. The clench of Felix’s muscles as Sylvain slides home inside him. Felix holding Sylvain like a vice as they find their pleasure together.

“A sword!” Felix exclaims, voice going excited in a way that makes Sylvain’s cock jump with attention. “You know swords are my favorite,” he says, and Sylvain is so far gone that he hears it as a purr directly in his ear. 

It’s all he needs. With a few more pumps of his fist he comes, hard and messy across his stomach and hand, a grunted, “Fuck, Felix,” on his tongue. He slumps back against the pillows until the world stops spinning. As he looks down at his hand and hears Felix laugh and say, “Damn it, I always set that fucking car alarm off,” he feels a little guilty.

But only a little.

\---

Felix spends a week not thinking about Sylvain. He does not think about his artfully tousled hair. He does not think about the sonorous quality of his voice. He does not think about his charming smile, or the way he leaned in just this side of too close, or the way his eyes danced when he told Felix to come back for the special discount that Felix suspects is not actually a restaurant-condoned discount at all.

The thing is, Felix is not used to this. This… attraction, or whatever it is. He doesn’t date. He doesn’t develop crushes. He definitely doesn’t develop crushes on unfairly handsome waiters that he doesn’t even _know_ for christ’s sake. But there is something about Sylvain, something about his demeanor or the flirty tilt of his smile or _something_ that has Felix hook, line, and sinker.

So, rather than spend any time thinking about all of this, he instead throws himself into editing with a ferocity that has Annette mildly concerned. Caspar comments that he is even more dedicated than usual at the gym and “is everything okay, bro?” When he releases two videos in one day as opposed to the one, his viewers are absolutely delighted.

And yet, the thought of Sylvain lingers.

That is why, a week later, Felix finds himself outside GM Brewery, chin tucked into the heavy folds of his scarf and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He loiters to the right of the door for a few minutes, asking himself what the hell he’s doing here, before he finally decides fuck it and enters. 

His eyes take a moment to adjust to the low light after just being in the sunny outdoors. He scans the restaurant, fiddling with his sleeve, and bites his bottom lip. An absolutely beautiful woman comes over to the podium by the door, a wide smile on her face. Do only beautiful people work here? It’s so bizarre.

“Hello! How many?” she chirps.

Felix clears his throat. “Uh,” he says eloquently. To her credit, she waits with her polite customer service smile for him to get his shit together. “Uh,” he tries again. “Is… Sylvain here?”

Her eyebrows jump up and there is a little twinkle in her eye. “Sorry, sweetie, Sylvain doesn’t usually work on Wednesdays. Did you still want a table?”

He fights the surge of disappointment, the feeling of being the world’s biggest idiot for even coming here. He wracks his brain for a minute, then pats his pockets. “Oh, uh, I forgot my wallet. I’ll be back.”

“Of course,” she says, voice smooth and knowing, and he beats a hasty retreat, berating himself the whole way home.

That night, on the stream, it is about 2:30 a.m. and only about a hundred people are left in the chat. In a complete twist of irony, one of his viewers is moaning about how he has the world’s biggest crush and has no idea how to confess his feelings. Felix rolls his eyes despite himself.

“Just tell them,” he says shortly. “Look, I get it. I did something stupid today, about someone I thought I might--nevermind that part. The point is, I had to try. Carpe diem or whatever, right?”

 **ladykiller69** feels a pang deep down in his soul, but there’s no way Felix could know that.

\---

The following afternoon, Sylvain’s phone dings. He is still lounging in bed, trying not to feel sorry for himself over the fact Felix has found somebody he “thinks he might,” whatever that means, and that he is what, a week too late? Why is fate so cruel?

 **Dorothea** : sylvie, you’re not going to believe this

 **Sylvain** : ??

 **Dorothea** : the CUTEST boy came looking for you yesterday. i’m pretty familiar with your rotation did you add someone new???

 **Sylvain** : uh no what did he look like

 **Dorothea** : about my height, black hair, frowny and very angular but so pretty. unforgettable if you ask me so what is wrong with u??

Sylvain drops his phone on his face.

\---

Felix’s phone rings around the same time Dorothea texts Sylvain. He, too, is lounging in bed, having stayed up far past the end of his stream berating himself for going to the restaurant. He isn’t sure what’s more frustrating: the fact that he embarrassed himself by going, or the fact Sylvain wasn’t there to reward him for his effort.

He fumbles for his phone and says a bleary, “Hello?”

“Felix Hugo Fraldarius!” Annette shrieks. “You didn’t tell me!”

“Buh?” Felix sits up and scrubs a hand over his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“‘Someone I thought I might’ _what_ , Felix? You can’t be so mysterious! I’m sure your viewers are going nuts, but more importantly, _I_ am going nuts! What did you do yesterday? What is going on?”

He groans and rests back against his nest of pillows and the headboard. He should have known this would happen, and Annie has been his best friend for how many years now? Still, his tongue remains stuck to the roof of his mouth. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have.

“Felix,” Annette says, voice softer. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m not going to judge you!”

“I just… went somewhere. To see somebody. He wasn’t there, so it was nothing, okay? Nothing to report,” Felix exhales in a rush.

Annette is quiet for a little bit, and Felix can see, in his mind’s eye, the moment the lightbulb goes off in her head. “The waiter?” she cries, absolutely delighted. “I knew it! I knew you were acting weird and I knew it wasn’t just about your dad!”

“Weird!” Felix huffs, affronted. “I wasn’t acting weird.”

“Oh, Fe,” she laughs. “Wow, he really did a number on you, didn’t he? I would never have imagined you would go back to see him. And alone, no less!”

“Well I don’t need anyone else to see me be an idiot,” he grouses.

She laughs again. “So, when are you going back?”

“I’m not.”

“What? You have to!” she exclaims. “Fe, you can’t give up after one try! Judging by the eyes he was giving you, I’d say your interest is a two-way street! Don’t give up yet!”

“It’s stupid. I’m not going. I don’t even know him.”

“That’s why you get to know him, silly. You didn’t know me either, but we’re still friends!”

“We wouldn’t have even talked if it wasn’t for that group project in photography class. I didn’t have a say in it.”

He can practically hear her roll her eyes, but she’s still laughing regardless. “I’m just saying you should try. What’s the harm?”

And what _is_ the harm, he wonders. The worst that happens, he looks stupid again. But Felix hates looking stupid, and he hates chasing, and he hates the unknown. He’s had the same routine for four years and he’s not about to change it now. Right?

“I’ll think about it,” he eventually says.

Annette knows him well enough to know not to push any further. Instead, with a smile in her voice, she says, “I’m proud of you, Fe.”

\---

This time, Felix tells himself, if Sylvain isn’t here, he’s not coming back. Yeah, the food was great. The service was good (unhealthy obsession with the server aside). The rum and coke wasn’t watered down. The ambience was inviting. Overall it’s just a very nice place but he will never again be looked at by that hostess, like he’s just one more in a long string of lovestruck fools chasing after Sylvain, the way he was last week. It had given him an uncomfortable feeling that maybe he wasn’t special in the way Sylvain flirted and chased, and that didn’t sit as well with him as he would like.

He didn’t dress with care, despite having wanted to. Instead he is in a standard Felix outfit: teal turtleneck, black jeans, boots, black peacoat. His hair is tied up in a messy bun that is already coming loose from the wind outside, and he knows his cheeks are rosy from the weather. As he steps inside the restaurant, he reminds himself that he doesn’t care what he looks like because this is just a casual visit.

Ha ha.

Today is Friday, but it’s very early in the evening shift and the place is almost empty. That is why Felix’s eyes land on Sylvain almost immediately. His back is turned to the door but Felix would recognize that mess of red hair and that lean, lithe body anywhere. He’s chatting with one of the other servers - another incredibly attractive man despite his unfortunate facial hair, and seriously, why is everyone here so hot? - who is laughing at whatever Sylvain just said.

The hostess comes up to him with a wide smile that is just a little teasing. “Did you find your wallet?” she says by way of greeting, and Felix briefly wishes the earth would open and swallow him up. He doesn’t respond, flustered, and she tinkles a laugh. “Sorry,” she winks. “Just one?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, shoving his hands as deep in their pockets as they can go and curling his chin in on itself. He feels like the world’s biggest idiot. Again. He continues to feel like the world’s biggest idiot as he crosses the restaurant behind her, until Sylvain turns around and their eyes meet.

At first Sylvain looks surprised, eyes going wide and eyebrows raising to his hairline. But then he just looks… fucking _delighted_. The most blinding smile splits his face and he even waves with a stupid little two-fingered salute that Felix returns with the barest of nods. The hostess stays until he’s settled in the booth, his scarf and coat draped over the leather beside him, then drifts away. Sylvain is there not ten seconds later.

“Felix!” he exclaims, and why does he sound so breathless? “I wasn’t sure you’d be back. It’s been a while.”

Nine days and, oh, two hours, give or take. Not that Felix has been counting.

“I’ve been busy,” he says gruffly, not meeting Sylvain’s eyes. Suddenly the idea of looking into those wide hazel eyes feels just too overwhelming.

“Probably with work, right?” Sylvain presses on, setting a menu down on the table. “You seem like the type who works a lot.”

Felix does look at him then, eyebrows furrowed, because that is surprisingly astute. “I do?”

“Oh, ah, haha,” Sylvain says, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks to be fighting the barest of blushes. “Just… intense, you know. That’s all. What do you do for work, anyway?”

“Computer stuff.” This is an old line, one he has used a hundred times before, but it feels false and misleading coming out of his mouth now. But Sylvain looks interested, smiling and tilting his head to one side. 

“Oh, yeah? Sounds interesting.”

Really? How does “computer stuff” sound remotely interesting? Felix doesn’t answer, instead opting to pick up the menu and pluck at it with his thumbnail.

“Do you need a few minutes?” Sylvain asks. “Or do you have any questions? Oh! I didn’t even ask what you wanted to drink.” He laughs at himself, shaking his head. “Amateur hour over here.”

“I’ll just have a Coke,” Felix says, his voice coming out surlier than he means it to. Overall he feels like he sounds a hundred times pricklier and angstier than he means to. He’s sure he’s making the world’s worst impression, at a time when all he wants is to make a _good_ impression, but Sylvain doesn’t seem fazed. 

“Sure thing. Be right back.” And then he’s gone, breezing over to the drink machine. The other server stops him and murmurs, leaning in close, his eyes flicking over to Felix and back again. Sylvain laughs at whatever was said, finishes pouring the drink, and comes back to Felix’s table.

“Here we go. Now, questions?”

“Uh, this one--” Felix points, and then startles when Sylvain leans down over his shoulder, so close that Felix can smell his cologne. He turns his head at the same time Sylvain does, and all he can see are hazel eyes and a smattering of freckles across fair skin. He swears that everything slows to a stop around him and he is acutely aware of his breath suddenly coming in soft little bursts and the race of blood to his cheeks. 

“Yes?” Sylvain whispers.

“I--” Felix tries, the words dying in his mouth.

The silence draws out between them. Sylvain is the first to break it. “Has anyone ever told you that your eyes--”

Felix slams the menu down on the table and Sylvain jumps back like he’s been burned. “Just… get me whatever,” he says, his voice choked. “I’m not picky.” This is a flat-out lie. Felix is the pickiest motherfucker on this planet. But the thought of being close to Sylvain like this for another ten seconds, another _single_ second, makes him feel like he’s going to spontaneously combust.

For his part, Sylvain looks equally discombobulated. He runs a hand through his hair and picks up the menu, aiming for but slightly missing an easy, flirty smile. “Sure thing, gorgeous,” he purrs.

“Don’t call me that,” Felix mutters, slinking down in his seat like he wishes he could disappear - which he does, fervently.

Sylvain winks. “Sure thing, handsome,” he amends before he walks off.

Felix pulls out his phone. He is tempted to text Annette. Hell, he’s tempted to text Ashe. He’s tempted to text literally anyone to get confirmation that he’s not being a fool right now. Instead he scrolls through his videos, checking statistics, and reads the latest gaming news. A glance up shows him that Sylvain is in earnest conversation with the other server, and frankly, Felix is glad for the breathing room. Sylvain’s side is to him, also, which gives him the opportunity to study his profile without being seen, and he is glad for that too.

Ten minutes slip by before Sylvain waltzes back over to his table holding two little plates. He deposits them in front of Felix and then smiles uncertainly as he gestures to the seat across from him in the booth. “Do you mind…?” he asks, sounding unsure for the first time since Felix has met him.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” 

“Nah, it’s quiet,” Sylvain answers breezily. “Besides, I bribed Claude into getting all the tables until it gets busy. So, you have me all to yourself, if you want me.” He winks and Felix huffs. 

“Sit down, then,” he says, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. “But… stop that.”

Sylvain cocks his head to one side. “Stop what?”

“The shallow flirting. I don’t like it.”

Again, Sylvain’s eyes go wide, and he presses a hand to his heart in an exaggerated fashion as he - Felix can plainly see - tries to recover his ego. “Ouch, right where it hurts.”

Felix stares at him flatly.

“Fine, fine, I get it,” Sylvain says. He rests an elbow on the table and props his chin in his hand. “Tell me about yourself, then. I want to know all there is to know about Felix Fraldarius.”

And so, they talk. Felix tells him all about Felix Fraldarius, barring some rather important details, and in turn Sylvain goes into what makes Sylvain Gautier tick. As they converse, Felix unwinds, and although he’s still defensive and sarcastic, he’s not prickly. Sylvain proves to be shockingly intelligent for how dumb he seems to try to come off as. Minutes tick by and Felix is utterly charmed in every way. He doesn’t even touch his food until Sylvain reaches over to pluck a piece of shredded chicken from his plate, and after that he barely registers eating at all.

Felix has no idea how much time goes by until they are interrupted by Claude of the Unfortunate Facial Hair, who Sylvain has informed him is also his roommate. He looks very apologetic as he tells Sylvain he could use some help. Sylvain nods and promises he’ll be over momentarily.

“This has been nice,” Sylvain says after he goes to get Felix’s check and has come back. “Maybe we could do it again sometime? Maybe when I’m not on the clock?” He grins.

“Sure,” Felix mumbles, glancing off to the side with the blush yet again high on his cheeks. 

“Great! Here.” Sylvain reaches over and swipes the customer copy of his receipt. He scribbles down his phone number and presses the receipt into Felix’s hand. The touch sends sparks shooting all the way to Felix’s shoulder. “Text me whenever you’re free.” 

His smile is so _warm_ , and so _genuine_ , and Felix feels his throat constrict. He wants to do… something. He doesn’t know what. Squeeze his hand or hug him or kiss his smiling mouth or _something_. Instead he nods, pocketing the receipt, and slides out of the booth. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I will. See you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so that rating sure did go up, didn't it?
> 
> I know I promised angst and Dimtri in this chapter, but the chapter got away from me and suddenly it was 3.5k words of fluff (and masturbation). You'll see it in the next chapter, I swear.
> 
> Thank you again for your comments and kudos and hits. I cherish you!


	4. Four

Felix doesn’t even wait to get home before saving Sylvain’s number, pausing not even a block down the crowded sidewalk to press his back against the brick building and type with not-quite shaking fingers. 

It had gone… really well, actually. As keyed up as he feels now, equal parts euphoric and dazed, he has to admit that there is a solid connection that goes beyond hazel eyes and an easy smile. And though Felix can’t quite shake the knowing smile of the hostess from that first visit, he decides as he’s walking home that he will pursue this.

He does not pursue it, however, for a few days, his fingers and brain locking up in equal measure when he tries to think of something to text. Everything seems too boring or too needy and he has no idea how to come across as cool and suave and all those things that he sometimes wishes he was, but realistically realizes he is not.

Finally, after waking up around 2:00 p.m., he decides this will be the Big Day. Today will be the day he gets over himself and just texts the damn man. He spends a good ten minutes typing and retyping.

 **Felix** : Hey, this is Felix.

Truly earth shattering.

It takes ten agonizing minutes, in which Felix compulsively checks his phone in case his text alerts aren’t working for some reason, for his phone to ding.

 **Sylvain** : hey!! :) wasn’t sure i would hear from you. hows it going?

 **Felix** : Fine. Sorry it took so long. (He pauses, wondering if he should lie or offer some excuse, but opts for brute honesty, as is his way.) I wasn’t sure what to say.

 **Sylvain** : ohh did i scare you? sorry :) what are you doing today?

They spend the next few minutes in a flurry of text messages, and once Felix gets over his initial reluctance and awkwardness, it is easy and casual. Sylvain keeps the conversation going where Felix would have shut down at least three times. Felix is in the middle of typing his latest response when his phone screen lights up with a blurry picture of his father, titled “Old Man,” who is calling. He rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer, going back to his text. It rings again, and Felix frowns, wondering what the hell. He picks up.

“What? I’m busy.”

The next few minutes only register in a blur of half-understood words.

_Glenn_

_Routine call gone bad_

_Gunshot wound to the head_

_Protected Dimitri at least_

_Died a hero_

“Felix? Son, are you there?”

Felix hangs up on him.

\---

Ridiculously, the first person he wants to talk to is Sylvain. He shoves that silly notion far in the recesses of his mind and stares down at his contact list. He knows who he should call, though his father has most likely already beat him to it. Closing his eyes, he envisions Ingrid, the strict mother figure of three boys who had no mother, throwing herself into the police academy because it would help her watch over Dimitri while allowing her to follow in Glenn’s footsteps. He envisions an almost-engagement that they danced around since high school, for christ’s sake, that now will never take place.

Swallowing hard, he thumbs over Ingrid’s name and presses call.

“Felix?” Ingrid’s voice is choked with tears. So his father did get to her first. Well, at least now Felix doesn’t have to be the one to break the news.

He hesitates, unsure of what to say. Ingrid idolized Glenn. Loved him. What the hell do you say to that?

“I’m sorry,” he says after the silence has dragged on too long, punctuated by little sniffles from Ingrid. 

“Felix, he was _your_ brother,” she says, as if that is more important. Maybe it is, but he doesn’t feel that way right now.

“I’m still sorry.”

More silence. Then, “At least Dimitri is okay.”

The fraying threads of his composure snap. “Who fucking cares if _the boar_ is safe. He _took Glenn from us_ ,” he snarls.

Ingrid hiccups. “He didn’t,” she insists, her voice trembling. “The shooter did. Felix, you can’t blame Dimitri for--”

“I can blame whoever I damn well please.”

“...Fine.” She sighs heavily, knowing this is a battle she won’t win. “I’ll see you at the funeral.”

\---

**Felix** : My brother died. You won’t hear from me for a while.

 **Sylvain** : oh shit, i’m so sorry felix :( let me know if you need anything ok?

\---

The following week passes by in a blur. Felix spends his days at the family estate and his nights at home trying to keep some semblance of a schedule with his videos and streaming. The days with his family are only punctuated by moments that he will recall later when the rest of it is fuzzy.

For example:

The coffee in his cup has grounds in it. Their family is richer than god, has several servants, and can’t manage a cup of coffee without grounds in it. What the fuck.

His father has too much cologne on. When he walks into a room, it is suffocating, making Felix’s eyes water. He still hasn’t spoken more than ten words to the man, _died a hero_ on repeat in his head.

Dimitri is notably absent. Felix doesn’t ask, but Ingrid informs him that he is still in the hospital recovering from his wounds, though he will be out by the funeral. He will lose the eye. Felix tells himself he doesn’t care.

Annette and Ashe both come to the funeral. They stand on either side of Felix and clutch his hands. He is so numb he doesn’t even feel it.

It is the night of the funeral that Felix snaps.

It’s a streaming night. He starts early after shucking his funeral garb, changing into a pair of sweatpants and a ratty band t-shirt, and pouring a full-sized glass of straight rum. His mood is dark, much darker than the rest of the week, visions of his brother’s casket - closed, due to the gunshot wound to the fucking _face_ \- dancing around behind his eyelids. 

He shouldn’t be streaming. He shouldn’t be drinking. He definitely shouldn’t be drinking while streaming on the night of _his brother’s fucking funeral_ , but he does anyway, and it is an unmitigated disaster.

Felix decides to play Dead By Daylight, which he is convinced he could play in his sleep. Only, every survivor group he ends up in is comprised solely of fucking idiots and he is not shy about roasting the shit out of them both verbally and in the end-game lobby chats. As the night progresses, he gets meaner and drunker and soon he is getting angry at well-meaning people in his Twitch chat too. When **Nobili-tea** politely but pointedly asks what his problem is, Felix jumps to his feet, throws his glass across the room, and shouts, “You have _no_ fucking idea!” The glass collides with the wall and shatters into a thousand tinkling pieces. Felix stands there, gasping, his vision going black around the edges. He scrubs a hand down his face, squeezing his eyes shut, and wills himself to calm down. 

He shuts the stream down without another word. Somehow he manages to stumble into his bedroom and falls face-down on the bed. His cat jumps up next to him and curls up next to his head. 

His phone dings from the bedside table.

 **Sylvain** : hey, i’m thinking about you. hope everything is going ok.

The next day, Annette badgers him into putting up an apology video. He doesn’t explain what’s going on, but he does apologize for his behavior. The video gets over 400k likes in three hours, despite being stilted and awkward. At least his reputation is, for the most part, saved. At Ashe’s insistence, he also decides to take a short break from YouTube and Twitch. Only a week, at most. Ashe is adamant that he needs some time and space to process what happened to Glenn. After his behavior on stream, Felix can’t exactly disagree.

He tries to relax, tries to _process_ , tries to get over it, until his phone rings on the third day and his carefully constructed facade cracks because _Dimitri wants to see him_.

\---

Felix isn’t sure what prompts him to choose GM Brewery as his and Dimitri’s meeting place. They needed neutral ground, he knew that much. And, despite how he’s been preoccupied, he has occasionally let his mind drift to Sylvain’s flirty smile and soft eyes. He doesn’t miss him, exactly - they don’t know each other well enough for that - but he would like to see him.

Seeing his ostensibly adopted brother and the sole survivor of the event that led to his brother’s death, on the other hand, is not something he is looking forward to.

Felix shows up to the restaurant late, knowing Dimitri would be early, just to spite him. He’s wearing black on black on black, practically disappearing into the gloom outside as he stands with his hands jammed in his pockets and tries to stymy the bubbling anger that is roiling just below the surface of his skin. 

He doesn’t want to do this, but he does it.

Pushing inside, he scans the restaurant. Sylvain is here, which is a relief to Felix, but he is preoccupied with a table across the room. His eyes continue to move and--there, by the window. Dimitri sits, also dressed in black, his blond hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and a black eyepatch stark on the pale skin of his face. 

Felix starts the interminable journey over, but is interrupted mid-stride by Sylvain, whose wide smile clearly shows how happy he is to see him.

“Felix!” Sylvain exclaims, and then in a move that surprises them both, pulls Felix into a hug. 

Felix goes stiff in his grasp, his arms bent out at the elbow awkwardly, his eyes wide. The scent of Sylvain’s cologne washes over him, spicy and comforting. Startled as he is, he realizes that he is starved for touch, having brushed off every well-meaning relative and family friend this past week. Not only is he starved for touch, but _Sylvain’s_ touch just feels… right, somehow.

But it’s over as quickly as it began, Sylvain’s arms falling away. Felix looks at him, still starstruck, and notices the faint blush across Sylvain’s nose and the way his eyes slide off to the side like he’s a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he says with a little huff of laughter.

“It’s fine,” Felix mumbles. He fights the urge to reach out when Sylvain steps back, out of his space. 

“Can I get you a table?” Sylvain asks, his easy smile sliding back into place. “You skipped past Dorothea, I guess.” 

Oh right, Dimitri. Felix looks over Sylvain’s shoulder and Dimitri is staring with his one blue eye so big, looking as shocked as Felix feels. Great. So on top of the dead brother conversation, he is going to have to offer some explanation about… this. Whatever this is.

“I’m meeting someone,” Felix says, jerking his head towards the table Dimitri is occupying. 

Sylvain follows his gaze and suddenly his smile turns brittle, forced. “I didn’t know you liked the pirate type,” he jokes weakly. “Hey!” he exclaims when Felix, not holding back, punches his bicep. “What was that for?”

“Why do you assume everyone I come here with is my date? That’s my adoptive brother. Jesus.” Felix rolls his eyes, frustrated despite himself, but at least the stupid plasticy quality of Sylvain’s smile is gone, replaced by a sheepish grin.

“Sorry. I’ll let you get to it, then. Do you, uh, want me to be your server? I can switch tables if you want.”

Felix considers this. On the one hand, it offers him more opportunities to interact with Sylvain. On the other hand, he’s not sure how this conversation is going to go and he doesn’t want Sylvain to hear it. He’s also not at his best at the moment. After deliberation, he shakes his head. “Don’t take it personally,” he says, not meeting Sylvain’s eyes. “It’s just not going to be a pretty conversation and I kind of… don’t want you to see that.”

“Sure,” Sylvain says, voice warm and understanding. He reaches a hand out, like he’s about to brush Felix’s forearm, but stops himself at the last minute. Felix feels the loss acutely. “Good luck.”

Felix nods minutely and forces himself to walk away, over to Dimitri’s table. He shucks his coat and slides into the chair opposite. Surprisingly, he is feeling relatively calm now, Sylvain’s presence a balm to him. He is still tingling from the unexpected hug.

But of course Dimitri has to ruin it, like he ruins everything else in Felix’s life.

“Is that a friend of yours?” Dimitri asks. His voice is polite, innocent, as is his expression, and Felix wants to punch him in the mouth. 

“None of your business,” he snaps. He doesn’t even want to get into who Sylvain is, and could be, to him. Not to Dimitri of all people.

His outburst effectively kills _that_ conversation. Dimitri takes a sip of his water, a frown twisting his mouth. Silence descends, heavy and thick, and Felix doesn’t try to break it. They are saved only by the appearance of Claude, who takes their orders with businesslike efficiency. Felix suspects Sylvain told him to give them space, and while he appreciates it, he also could use a distraction from this uncomfortable silence.

Every subject feels taboo. He could ask how Dimitri is healing, he guesses, but he doesn’t care. They could talk about Glenn, but he doesn’t want to. What else is there? Despite monthly family get-togethers and the efforts of his father, Felix and Dimitri might as well be strangers. And now, Dimitri is responsible for Glenn’s death. 

Well, maybe not directly responsible, if he is being totally honest with himself (which he is not, deliberately or otherwise, in this instance). But the fact remains that Dimitri is in front of him and Glenn is gone. Felix knows which brother he would have preferred to be here, and it’s not Dimitri.

Dimitri tries a couple of times to get a conversation going, picking Rodrigue (a mistake) and Ingrid (also a mistake) as topics. Felix shuts him down both times. They sit in silence until their meals arrive, but Felix only picks at his food.

“Why did you want me to come here?” Felix finally demands, unable to take it anymore. 

Dimitri looks up from his meal in surprise, when he shouldn’t be surprised at all. He inhales deeply, eye on the table. “I wanted to apologize,” he says quietly. Felix remains silent, watching. “Glenn… I…” He stutters, unable to say it now that they’ve reached this point.

“It’s your fault,” Felix hisses. “You should have been better prepared. You should have _known_.” Never mind that Glenn was the superior officer, that Dimitri and Glenn had been given the same information. Never mind that neither could have known what to expect, not really. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Dimitri is here and _Glenn is not_.

“I know,” Dimitri says, quiet, miserable. “I know, it’s my fault. I hear his voice in my dreams and--”

Felix jumps to his feet so fast that the chair behind him flips over. “I don’t give a shit what you hear in your fucking dreams. _My brother is dead!_ ” he shouts. 

The restaurant goes eerily quiet as every set of eyes turns to their table. Felix is panting, hands clenched into tight fists, and he really feels like he might jump across the table and rip the self-deprecating expression off of Dimitri’s miserable face with just his fingernails.

A hand on his arm startles him out of his thoughts. “Hey, let’s calm down, okay?” Sylvain says softly. 

“I don’t want to _calm down_ ,” Felix snaps, jerking his arm out of Sylvain’s grasp and ignoring the hurt look that flashes across his face. 

“Okay,” Sylvain tries again. “But let’s at least go outside and be angry, so we don’t distract the other customers. We don’t want to get kicked out, right?” His voice is trying to be soothing, but all it’s doing is further pissing Felix off. However, he’s right. Felix storms past him and slams his way out of the restaurant, pacing back and forth in a tight circle on the sidewalk outside.

Dimitri, Claude, and Sylvain follow him out. Felix almost laughs. They must think Dimitri needs bodyguards if they dragged Claude out here too.

Thinking about it, maybe Dimitri does.

Sylvain and Claude stand off to the side as Dimitri approaches with his hands out in a warding gesture. “I’m sorry, Felix,” he says despondently. “If there was anything I could have done differently, I would have.”

Felix scoffs and keeps pacing.

“I know you missed the last family dinner… the last time you could have seen Glenn… but--”

And that’s it. That’s the breaking point. Felix is moving before he can even think to stop himself, spinning around, his fist swinging through the air on a trajectory for Dimitri’s jaw.

Only he doesn’t hit Dimitri. He hits Sylvain.

Sylvain, stupid Sylvain, who must have seen what Felix was going to do and jumped in to stop it. His head snaps to the side and he staggers backwards until he stumbles into Dimitri’s chest. 

“Ow,” he says, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. “You’ve got a hell of a fist on you.”

Felix is on him in a second, grabbing him by the collar and jerking him out of Dimitri’s grasp. “ _Why?_ ” he chokes out. Sylvain’s jaw is already starting to blossom with a hell of a bruise. Felix barely notices Claude having rushed over until the man pushes him away from Sylvain with a warning look in his eyes. Felix steps back, blood rushing in his ears.

“It’s fine,” Sylvain assures them, but Claude does not look convinced. 

“You’ve got to get some ice on that,” Claude insists. “And I think you should go.” This is directed at Felix in a stern voice. Felix hears the _and reconsider coming back_ tacked on at the end, but he can’t begin to deal with that right now. His fist is burning, the knuckles split and bruised, and his heart is beating jackrabbit fast.

Sylvain is trying a crooked smile, all _no big deal, Claude, it’s totally fine,_ but it is _not_ fine, and everyone there knows it.

“I’ll take care of the check. You… can head home,” Dimitri says, formal as ever despite the violence of the evening. Felix hates him more than ever. “I’m very sorry,” he adds to Sylvain, who just waves him off with a smile that devolves into a wince as he reaches up and touches his jaw. 

Sorry. That’s what Felix _should_ be saying right now. That’s one of many things Felix should be saying right now. But now that the adrenaline has worn off, the shame is rising in its place, and Felix has no words.

Swallowing hard, he turns on his heel and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I start writing my apology letter to Dimitri now or...
> 
> It has been a rough few days, so I'm sorry this didn't come out sooner. I'm still not entirely happy with this chapter, but I have to stop fiddling with it at some point.
> 
> Thank you again for all your kudos and comments and hits. I am blown away by how much you are enjoying this little bit of silliness. I hope you like this chapter, as well.
> 
> And as a reminder, you can find me [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/snarkyperson) and [Tumblr](http://aazeris.tumblr.com) if you're so inclined.


	5. Five

This is a big day. This is the day of LoneWolf’s comeback, and Sylvain wouldn’t miss it for the world. If part of the reason for that is that he misses Felix, well, it can’t be helped.

Sylvain settles down on the couch with his laptop next to him, a drink on the end table and his favorite blanket waiting patiently to his left. Claude’s working, which means he has the apartment blessedly alone. While he is truly grateful for the tight circle of friends who have flocked to surround him since The Incident, he is also sincerely relieved to have a moment to himself.

It’s been five days since Felix clocked the shit out of his jaw and disappeared from his life. For the first couple of days, Sylvain had compulsively checked his phone, absolutely positive that with a little time, Felix would reach out to him. But the days stretched on, and Felix was completely absent, and Sylvain eventually came to terms with the fact that, realistically, the extent of his future relations with Felix would be as a Twitch streamer and his anonymous fan.

Sylvain doesn’t even need an apology, not really, despite Dorothea’s insistence otherwise. As a fellow member of the Dead Brothers Club, he understands. He thinks back to that moment three years ago, the subsequent descent into booze and unprotected sex and occasional drugs that lasted almost a month before Mercedes gently but firmly pulled him back from the edge of self destruction. He thinks back to telling his dad to fuck off and officially cutting himself off from the Gautier family and bank account - ultimately a good decision for him, but perhaps not made at the best of moments.

So yeah, Sylvain gets it. He _really_ does.

Bless his friends, who all swooped in to his rescue and defense. He really is thankful for them. On the other hand, he really wishes they would stop shit-talking Felix. They’ve stopped doing it to his face, at his insistence, but he knows they’re still talking when he’s out of earshot. It shouldn’t matter, now that Felix has successfully extricated himself from Sylvain’s life, but it does. It just does.

The bruise… well, it is a hell of a bruise. Fist-sized, painting stark black and blue against the skin of his jaw, throbbing with a dull ache no matter how many bags of frozen peas he presses to it. Dorothea had lent him some concealer so he didn’t get bombarded by questions and stares at work. 

Sylvain has always liked bruises, always liked to be marked, and he would _very much_ like to be marked by Felix but perhaps not quite this violently.

Felix is playing some older electronica tonight, an artist he recognizes from high school. It is nostalgic in a way that pleases him. Sylvain folds his legs under him and balances his laptop on his knees. The “Live Soon” ticker is going over a screenshot of an indie horror game that Sylvain only recognizes because he watched Felix play it three months ago.

The music fades low. “Evening, everybody,” comes through over it, and Sylvain’s heart starts thumping wildly in his chest. That _truly_ is ridiculous, but he can’t help his excitement.

“I’m back,” Felix continues, then cuts himself off with a huff of a laugh. “I guess that much is obvious. Anyway, thanks for the support. Sorry again about the last stream. I, uh, hope this break helped clear my head a little.” He pauses, and he sounds so adorably awkward that Sylvain almost wants to blush on his behalf. “Anyway, I’ve got a new game for you tonight. Let’s play Night Watch, yeah?”

Throughout the stream, Felix is present, but subdued. It seems like he really expects a lot of backlash from his absence and behavior and is shocked when it doesn’t come. At first he ignores chat, but as time wears on, he starts responding to a comment here and there, and it becomes a little smoother.

Sylvain scratches his chin. He really wants to just… do something. He has been subbed for three years now, so that’s off the table. A donation is a little too direct. 

“Gift subs!” he exclaims softly, beaming at his laptop screen in appreciation for his frankly brilliant idea.

**ladykiller69** is gifting 10 Tier 1 Subs to LoneWolf’s community!

There has been a pretty steady influx of subs this stream, so Sylvain isn’t expecting much of a reaction, but when Felix notices, he sounds pleased - almost. 

“Ladykiller69… ugh. You need a name change. Thanks for the gifted subs.”

Sylvain grins.

The stream continues. Sylvain considers, then acts.

**ladykiller69** is gifting 10 Tier 1 Subs to LoneWolf’s community!

“20 gift subs?” Felix asks, and in his mind’s eye Sylvain can see one perfect eyebrow quirking. “Thanks.”

The stream continues. Sylvain is enraptured for a good ten minutes before:

**ladykiller69** is gifting 10 Tier 1 Subs to LoneWolf’s community!

“The hell?” Felix mumbles. “Uh, thanks.”

Sylvain pulls out his phone and opens his banking app - just to make sure. 

**ladykiller69** is gifting 10 Tier 1 Subs to LoneWolf’s community!

“Okay, uh, this is a bit much isn’t it? I mean, thank you, but--”

Aaaaand...

**ladykiller69** is gifting 10 Tier 1 Subs to LoneWolf’s community!

That’s as much as Sylvain’s bank account will allow. Based on the way Felix is… not sputtering exactly, but definitely at a loss for words, it was worth it.

“Seriously, ladykiller69, just… thanks. I really appreciate it. The community really appreciates it. This is… above and beyond anything I expected tonight.”

A little space in Sylvain’s chest warms and expands.

It gets better. Sylvain’s generosity prompts a wave of support. Subs and gift subs and even donations start flowing in, and Sylvain isn’t keeping strict track but he knows that the numbers have got to be over $2,000 by now. No one has gifted 50 subs like him, but the outpouring is amazing.

At the end of the stream, Felix stutters an awkward little speech about how much he loves his job and his community, sounding more like himself that he has in over a week, and Sylvain can’t help his smile.

\---

$2,250. In one night. Felix can’t believe it, can’t believe how successful his comeback was, can’t believe the support and generosity and downright awesomeness of his community.

He thinks of ladykiller69 who sparked the whole thing, and he ducks his head with a wry smile. It’s a douchebag name, but he’s a generous douchebag so at least he’s doing something right. This isn’t the first time ladykiller69 has caught his attention; Felix remembers him from back in the early days so it has to have been a few years that they’ve been together at this point. He’s earnest but funny in chat, and while Felix has too many subscribers to pay special attention to each one, he always remembers ladykiller69 and his douchebag name.

Maybe he’s just riding high on the adrenaline of a successful night - no, he knows he is - but he picks up his phone and opens his text messages. Sylvain’s thread is pushed down a few in the recents, but his name still glares up at him, reminding him that he a) punched the poor man in the face and b) completely ghosted him after the fact without so much as an _I’m sorry for being such a tremendous asshole_. And he _is_ a tremendous asshole. There’s no denying that much.

At least he hasn’t heard from Dimitri since then.

Felix wrestles with himself a bit, pacing back and forth in his office while he tries to work up the courage to reach out. His instinct is, and always has been, to withdraw into himself, as evidenced by his disappearing act. However, in this case, he just… something. He wants to apologize. He wants to reach out. He wants to explain, to make Sylvain understand, to peel back a couple of layers of grief so Sylvain can see the beating heart of his sorrow underneath. It’s important to him, this once, to not be a fucking coward.

So he goes to his contacts and before he can talk himself out of it, before he even realizes it’s 3:00 in the morning and Sylvain is most likely asleep, he presses call and tries to fight down the uncomfortable way his heart now seems to be beating in his throat.

Sylvain answers after the second ring, and his voice does not sound like he’s been sleeping. That is a relief, at least.

“Felix?” he says, a little breathy like he can’t believe this is happening. Felix gets it. He can’t believe this is happening either.

“Hi.” Felix bites his bottom lip. He’s come this far, but he has no idea what to say. “Are you… uh… I would like to meet with you.” What? “Sometime.” _What?_ “Soon. If you’re available.”

There is a silence on the line that stretches a little too long, making Felix sure that Sylvain has either hung up on him or is about to. “I’d like that,” Sylvain says after a few more seconds tick by. His voice sounds careful, hesitant, but he didn’t say no so that’s something, right?

They talk logistics. They work out the where (a coffee shop equidistant to both of them) and when (tomorrow, blessedly, not giving Felix enough time to back out) and Felix, eager to finish the conversation, politely thanks Sylvain for his time (like an idiot) and hangs up.

\---

Sylvain thinks about telling Claude where he’s going, but decides against it. Easygoing as the man is, Sylvain suspects he’s not going to take kindly to Sylvain breezing off to see someone as volatile as Felix. It’s going to make things complicated if this meeting goes well, if they see each other again and again, if things evolve in the way Sylvain really kind of wishes they would. He throws around words like love and desire in a pretty cavalier fashion generally, but whatever he’s got going on with Felix? It’s deeper than just a wish for a quick fuck and a goodbye.

It’s kind of freaking him out, just a little bit, but only when he thinks too hard about it. So he doesn’t.

He slips his earbuds in while he’s on the subway, bringing up his gym playlist and letting it blare through the speakers. It is only after the second song plays that he realizes what he is doing: hyping himself up for something monumental. The realization makes him chuckle, but he doesn’t change the playlist.

Before long he’s above-ground again, standing in front of the agreed-upon coffeeshop and steeling himself for whatever’s about to happen. He takes his earbuds out, pockets them, and steps inside. 

Immediately he is greeted by the soft sounds of conversation, the whir of the espresso machine, and the soothing smell of coffee and spices and baked goods. He glances around and spies Felix in the very back, at a table for two. Felix hasn’t noticed him yet, caught up in something on his phone, so Sylvain has a moment to just… look. Look at those cheekbones that could cut glass. Look at that raven hair he desperately wants to feel brush against his bare chest. Look at those lidded amber eyes that speak volumes more than the firm, thin line of his lips. Look at the turtleneck that he very much would love to pull down to reveal sharp collarbones that he would love to lick and bite.

Sylvain was fucked when Felix was a snarky voice on the internet. Now that Felix is a man, a _gorgeous_ man with a honey voice and sharp personality, Sylvain is well and truly fucked.

There are two cups on the table in front of Felix, so Sylvain forgoes ordering in favor of walking over to the table and clearing his throat. When Felix jerks his head up, eyes widening like he didn’t expect Sylvain would actually be here, Sylvain gives him a lopsided smile. “Hi.”

Felix sets his phone face-down on the table and gestures for Sylvain to sit. “Hi,” he returns, voice subdued. He sounds closed off, forbidding, but he asked Sylvain to come here so that’s something, right…? “I got you… uh. I hope you like this.” He nudges the second cup towards Sylvain, who picks it up with a grateful nod and takes a sip.

Holy shit. It’s a caramel macchiato. Did Felix really remember his favorite coffee from a passing comment weeks ago? Sylvain tries not to show his surprise _too_ much, but he can’t help the little half appreciative, half surprised noise that escapes his lips, swallowed up by the plastic lid of the cup.

If Felix notices, he says nothing. He is studiously avoiding Sylvain’s eyes, the look on his face making it clear he is working himself up to talk. Sylvain stays quiet, a hundred and one witty and charming things blooming and dying on his tongue. 

“I’m really surprised you came,” Felix admits after the silence drags on long enough to be awkward. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Felix gives him a flat, disbelieving look. “I punched you in the face, Sylvain.”

“You did,” Sylvain agrees, his fingers coming up to brush the bruise along his jaw without even realizing it. “But I got in the middle of the fight. You can’t get in the middle of a fight and not expect to get hit. It’s not like it was personal.”

A little something like _anguish_ or _sorrow_ comes into Felix’s eyes. His eyebrows draw together and his voice goes gruff - gruffer than usual. “ _Why_ did you do that? Why did you get in the middle of it?”

“Instinct, I guess,” Sylvain responds with a little laugh. “To be honest, I really didn’t want you to get arrested.”

Felix’s fingers tighten around his cup. “I…” he starts, but then he freezes up. He releases his cup with one hand, scrubs across his face, and drops it back to the table in a loose fist. His eyes are locked on the table in front of him. “I’m sorry. For… hitting you. For getting in a fight at your restaurant. For ghosting you after. For being… me. Sorry in general, really.” Once he gets going he says it all in a rush, and it sits on the table in front of them.

Sylvain wonders if it would be presumptuous to share the contact information of his therapist.

“Look, Felix,” Sylvain says, reaching out. He barely realizes what he’s doing until he is stroking his fingers across Felix’s, across the closed fist on the table, across his palm when he flexes his fingers open just the barest amount. “You’re grieving. You don’t need to apologize for being human.” He pauses, then laughs. “Well, you can apologize for punching me in the face. I think Dorothea would insist on it.”

Felix says nothing. His eyes are locked on their hands, and the faintest blush spreads across his cheeks. But he doesn’t pull away. That, Sylvain thinks, is a very important point.

“As for apologizing for ‘being you’, I really have to draw the line at that one. You, based on what I know so far, are… well, pretty incredible, actually.”

“Incre--” Felix jerks his head up and his hand back. His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Is that a line?” 

Sylvain laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck with the hand that was just on Felix’s. “On anyone else, yeah, it probably would be. On you, though… no. It’s the truth.”

The blush on Felix’s cheeks spreads to the tips of his ears. He genuinely does not seem to know how to process this, and Sylvain thinks, _There’s no possible way I’m the first person to tell him this. Am I?_

“You barely know me,” Felix says eventually. The gruff edge has left his voice, replaced by something softer, something Sylvain wants to bottle and keep with him for lonely nights. 

“We can change that,” is Sylvain’s easy response. “If you’re, y’know, into it. I’d love to take you out properly.” And here, Sylvain is more at ease, more himself. He knows how to flirt, how to date. It’s the Deep Feelings he runs adrift on. He’s working on it with his therapist, but given how things are developing...ish… between him and Felix, he thinks maybe he needs to double down on the CBT exercises.

Felix pauses long enough that Sylvain is almost convinced he’s going to say no. But he’s looking at him, amber eyes intent on his like he’s searching for some answer deep in Sylvain’s soul. It’s penetrating, a little uncomfortable, but Sylvain stays open for him, open for whatever he needs to see. He must find it, because he finally concedes with a, “Fine.”

Sylvain breaks out into a megawatt grin. “Perfect. Let’s text to work out the details?”

“Fine,” Felix says again, moving to stand and pull on all his layers. Sylvain realizes this meeting is over and moves to do the same.

“I’ll figure out something really amazing, don’t worry,” Sylvain winks. 

Felix turns his face to the side. “It doesn’t have to be amazing,” he mumbles. He collects his cup and moves around the table, standing next to Sylvain. 

Right next to him, actually, so of course Sylvain does what he does next, which is to pull Felix into a hug.

Sylvain is not expecting much from this hug. He remembers the last time, when he had temporarily lost his mind and hugged Felix at the restaurant, when Felix had locked up like someone had a gun to his head. Still, as uncomfortable as it was, Sylvain has not been able to get the memory of his lean, compact body pressed against his own out of his mind since. 

Sylvain is not expecting Felix to hug him back, but after a moment, he does.

Tentative arms wrap themselves around his waist, and Sylvain sighs softly. “I really am sorry about your brother,” he murmurs into Felix’s ear.

Felix leans down to rest his forehead against Sylvain’s shoulder. His arms tighten a bit in response to Sylvain running his hand gently up and down Felix’s spine. “Thanks,” he whispers, soft enough that only Sylvain can hear. 

They stay like that for what feels like a glorious forever, but Felix pulls away first. He looks adorably flustered, the pink high on his cheeks and his gaze darting everywhere but Sylvain’s face. Sylvain very desperately wishes he could take a picture.

“I’ll text you,” he says, squashing the impulse. _Probably until you’re sick of me,_ he doesn’t add, but that’s the plan.

“Okay.” Felix jams the hand not holding his coffee into his pocket and looks up at Sylvain through his lashes. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

He leaves, and Sylvain leaves a few minutes later, absolutely buoyant in a way he can’t remember being in a long, long time.

Claude is probably going to kill him. It’s worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be blown away by everyone's support. Thank you to everyone who reads and comments and leaves kudos! You're all amazing!


	6. Six

“Okay, so,” Sylvain begins, his hands clasped as if in prayer before him. He is trying for an easy smile, not an apologetic one, but he’s not sure if he’s hitting the mark - probably not, if Claude’s expression is anything to go by. Claude has a distinct what-have-you-gotten-yourself-into-now look from his position casually lounging, one leg folded up beneath him, on the opposite side of the couch. They are both full of red curry, the special homemade kind - one of the few things Sylvain can cook well - that Claude loves best. Sylvain tried to play it cool, but his immediate request to have a Talk, capital T implied, immediately threw that idea out the window.

“Am I going to have to protect you from another scorned lover’s brother?” Claude asks, world-weary and resigned.

“No!” Sylvain exclaims. He tamps down the “because he’s dead” that springs to mind, unbidden. “No, it’s nothing like that. Nobody scorned in this scenario.”

“Okaaaay,” Claude says, drawing out the a. “Then are you asking for a loan? A bribe? Do I need to beat someone up? What, exactly, do you need from me?”

_Forgiveness,_ Sylvain thinks, but does not say. “Uh. Understanding?” He smiles brightly with a completely forced sense of ease that Claude sees through immediately.

“What did you do? Kick a kitten? Steal from the elderly? Shove a man in a wheelchair down a set of stairs?”

“You really do think the worst of me, don’t you?” Sylvain chuckles, hating that, though these are exaggerated questions, Claude has to think of the worst case scenario when he’s concerned. “It’s nothing so dramatic. I just… you remember Felix?”

Claude considers for a moment. “The guy who--” He gestures to his jaw in a rough approximation of where the bruise sits on Sylvain’s face. Sylvain nods. “Yeah, I remember him. You didn’t call a hit on him, did you?”

“Are you kidding?” Sylvain scoffs. “ _You_ would have called a hit on him before I would.” Claude’s eyebrows raise high and Sylvain’s stomach drops. Okay. Time for honesty. “I met with him earlier.” Claude’s eyebrows raise impossibly higher. “And I kind of asked him out.”

“Syl _vain!_ ” Claude exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “Are you really so desperate for dick that you are willing to go out with the man who has a _proven track record_ in violence? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Sylvain immediately goes on the defensive. “It isn’t like that,” he protests, getting a little pissed despite himself. “He’s not violent. His brother just died, Claude. I think that gives anyone the excuse to be a little off.”

“A _little_ off? Off enough to start a fight in public? Off enough to throw a punch?”

“Yes, off enough for both of those things,” Sylvain snipes. “Look, I get it. You’re worried about me. But I know him, and I know he isn’t like that.”

Claude folds his arms. “You said you thought you knew him when he first came in. You were right?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you know him? What, exactly, do you know about him? You’ve never mentioned him to me before, and you tell me everything.”

“I have mentioned him to you before,” Sylvain admits. “You remember LoneWolf?”

Claude’s mouth drops open. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m 100% serious. I couldn’t believe it myself, but it’s definitely him.”

“So let me get this straight,” Claude says, gesturing with one hand. “You have a crush on this streamer for three years. Then one day he just _happens_ to come to the restaurant you work at, and then, what? You introduce yourself and you two live happily ever after? Does he even know you know who he is?”

Sylvain looks away, fidgeting. “Er, not exactly.”

“Not exactly, meaning no,” Claude says flatly. “And when, exactly, do you plan to tell him?”

“It hasn’t come up,” Sylvain evades, fully twisting his fingers in on themselves now. “I’m waiting for the right moment.”

“And you don’t think the right moment might be _before_ you start dating him?”

“It’s not that simple--”

“No, it is absolutely that simple,” Claude interrupts. “‘Hey, Felix, I’ve been a big fan for three years. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I am a gigantic pussy.’ Sounds simple, right?”

Sylvain pouts, a little dramatically, but he feels a pang in his chest. “You’re being mean to me.”

“I’m only telling you what you need to hear, big guy,” Claude responds, reaching out and patting Sylvain’s knee. “You want to date the guy who punched you. Okay, I get it. He’s pretty cute, and you’ve been harboring a crush for a long time. But honesty is going to go a lot further than you might think. Just think about it, okay? If you can do that much, you have my blessing.”

“Okay,” Sylvain concedes, as if it is a tremendous burden to him. “I’ll think about it.”

\---

Felix doesn’t want Sylvain to come to his apartment to pick him up. “I’m weird about my privacy,” he admits, and Sylvain almost has to laugh because _boy_ is he aware of that little tidbit. They agree instead to meet at Sylvain’s, where they will then take a cab to their mystery destination. Felix had seemed just this side of annoyed when Sylvain declined for the fifth time to tell him where they were going, instead just assuring him that it would be amazing.

Sylvain is 98% confident that this date is going to blow Felix’s mind. 

Even though the “dress code” is casual, Sylvain dresses with care, choosing a white button down that, he has been told, expertly shows off his broad shoulders and slim waist. He has also been told that these particular black jeans really make his ass look great, and that’s never a bad thing, right? He is still tousling his hair, trying to get it the perfect combination of sex-mussed and thoughtful, when there is a knock on his front door.

His heart jumps. When will that stop being a thing?

He gives himself a cheeky grin and a thumbs up in the mirror, and while this usually helps pump him up, today it just makes him feel silly. Well, he _is_ about to go on a date with the object of his obsession for three years. He guesses that his standard procedures might not apply here.

Before Felix can get annoyed and knock again, Sylvain opens the door, leaning on the door jamb with the most charming smile he can muster. He is absolutely not feeling lightheaded from Felix’s presence, and especially not from the black jeans he is wearing that also make _his_ ass look great or the messy way his hair is tied up, choppy bangs hanging down in his eyes. 

“Hi,” Sylvain beams.

“Hey,” is Felix’s gruff response. He looks off to the side, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, the barest pink crossing his cheeks - from the cold, or from embarrassment, Sylvain isn’t sure. “Where are we going?”

Sylvain laughs. “You’ve asked me five times already. I’m still not going to tell you.” He gestures with an arm for Felix to come inside, then starts bustling around to put on his outerwear and prepare to leave. 

“Hmph.” Felix slowly walks around the living room, looking at the art and posters and pictures on the wall curiously. Sylvain has always been proud of the home he and Claude have cobbled together. It is neat, especially for two men in their 20s, and minimalistic, but comfortable. He is going to be heartbroken when the rent eventually increases to the point that they can no longer afford it.

Properly prepared against the cold, Sylvain steps over to Felix’s side. Felix is examining a photograph of Sylvain, Claude, Dorothea, and Mercedes at the beach. In it, the gang is linked arm in arm, except for Sylvain who is sitting astride a giant dolphin statue and cheering. Sylvain glances over and sees the barest of smiles quirking one side of Felix’s mouth up. He clears his throat, and the smile instantly fades back into awkward shyness. 

How can somebody who spends his time talking to thousands of strangers be so shy?

There is a piece of lint in Felix’s bangs. In no way does Sylvain have permission to rectify this, but that has never stopped him before. He reaches out, ignoring the way Felix’s eyes widen, and runs his fingertips through Felix’s bangs, slowly and softly. The moment feels charged with energy. Felix’s eyes flutter closed as he takes a handful of calm, measured breaths. When he opens his eyes again, Sylvain’s fingers have wandered to the spot just below his ear. He strokes there, just once, as Felix stares at him. 

“Are you ready to go?” Sylvain asks softly.

“Yes,” is Felix’s breathless whisper. 

Neither of them move for the door. Sylvain rests his palm along the angular jut of Felix’s jaw and runs his thumb over his cheekbone. He does not miss the way Felix leans, just barely, into the touch, or how his lips are parted the slightest bit to allow little, quick puffs of breath to escape. For his part, Sylvain feels like his world has shifted dramatically on its axis. He has done this before - how many times? - but he has never felt this kind of energy, this kind of pull. They haven’t even kissed yet. It’s insane. But he just feels that magnet pull deep in his stomach, and looking into Felix’s eyes, he knows he feels it too.

It would be so easy to lean down and kiss him. Inches of space crossed in a second and then those lips would be on his. But Sylvain holds back, telling himself to be patient, and after one more stroke of his thumb he drops his hand. He tries another charming smile, but he knows he just looks like a lovestruck idiot. At least Felix does too, in his way.

“Let’s go,” Sylvain says with the greatest force of effort he has ever exerted on anything. He steps away, immediately feeling the loss of Felix’s proximity, and grabs his keys from the hook by the door. Felix follows obediently, his head down to hide whatever expression he’s locked into, and they head out to the curb to catch the Uber Sylvain called.

\---

Sylvain spends the Uber ride debating whether or not he has the courage to grab hold of Felix’s hand, which is casually sitting on the leather seat between them. He’s not sure what Felix spends the ride doing, at least not mentally, but he can guess that, judging by the way he’s squinting out the window looking at landmarks, he’s trying to piece together where exactly Sylvain is taking him.

They are quiet. Sylvain has to, in his head, laugh at himself. This is so unlike him. Usually he is full of ease and charm and flirtatiousness, but with Felix he just wants to be… more. And that desire to be more leads him to be nothing at all, which is the exact opposite of what he is going for. It’s an unpleasant feedback loop. It’s been a long time - or has it been ever? - that he has wanted a date to peel back his layers and see the person beneath the philandering and one-liners. 

Luckily, the ride is short enough - only about 15 minutes - that Sylvain doesn’t have too much time to wander around the overgrown pathways in his head. They pull up to a massive castle-looking structure surrounded by an incongruous parking lot. Felix cranes his head to the side to read the sign over the door: Medieval Times.

“No shit,” he breathes. 

Sylvain breaks out into a grin, because yeah, he can plan a date.

“You mentioned fencing in high school, and you said you like weapons, so I figured what better than dinner and a fighting show?” Sylvain slides out of the car, and Felix is so preoccupied with his incredulousness that he doesn’t get out of the car until Sylvain is there, opening the door for him and extending a hand to help him out.

“I didn’t really expect you to remember all that,” Felix mumbles, taking Sylvain’s hand and getting out of the car. 

Sylvain, deciding he has the courage after all, keeps a hold on Felix’s hand, threading their fingers together lightly. The blush is high on Felix’s cheeks again, but he doesn’t pull away, so Sylvain figures he’s scored a point. They head inside.

It’s early enough that they will have their pick of seats, but late enough that they don’t have to mill around in the entrance hall waiting to be seated. Felix is radiating energy, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet while they are assigned to their section: Green Knight. They find seats at one of the long tables near the action and settle in.

“I’m surprised you don’t do this kind of thing,” Sylvain says casually as they sit down. Felix gives him a questioning look. “You know, fighting for money. Put all that fencing practice to good use.” He winks.

Felix gives him a small, wry smile. “I don’t like horses.”

“Really?” Sylvain thinks back to his childhood, to posh riding lessons that he grew to love despite his brother’s constant torment, spooking his horse and, on occasion, pushing Sylvain into giant piles of horse shit. “I always liked them. They are majestic.”

Felix hums quietly. “Is that your favorite part of the show?”

“Oh hell no, I’m absolutely here for the jousting,” Sylvain grins. “I love a good smack with a lance.”

“Do you now?” Felix says, and his lips twist in something so close to a smirk that Sylvain wants to lean in and kiss it off his mouth. 

Sylvain leans in close, speaking in a stage whisper. “I absolutely _love_ getting bruised up. Isn’t that obvious already?”

It is, perhaps, not the wisest thing to say with the faded yellow remnants of Felix’s bruise on his jaw, but something about the sultry way he says it must resonate with Felix because he goes very, very still, lips falling apart with a short exhale. 

“I’m more a fan of crossing swords,” Felix murmurs after a pregnant moment. He slowly wets his lips. It is absolutely deliberate, and, taking Sylvain _very_ much by surprise, sends at least half of the blood in his head rushing south. Sylvain scoots a little closer, resting one hand on the bench by Felix’s hip and leaning forward. Felix is looking up at him now, his eyes gone heavy-lidded, and that hesitant shyness is completely gone. Sylvain’s nervousness is gone too, replaced with a tug deep in his chest.

“Can I get you boys anything to drink?” asks a serving wench, and Sylvain has to forcibly push down the urge to scream when Felix jumps back like he’s been burnt. 

They both order drinks. When Sylvain looks back at Felix he has pulled away again, retreating back into his shell, though his eyes sparkle as he looks at the arena. It takes a monumental force of will for Sylvain to keep from ripping his hair out.

By the time their drinks arrive, Sylvain has coaxed Felix back into general small talk. The heady rush of attraction has lessened to a low simmer between them. Sylvain is desperately trying to bring back that moment, that glorious pre-kiss moment - and he is usually _so good_ at this, why isn’t he _so good_ at this with Felix? - but it eludes him. 

The thing is, he’s worried about laying it on too thick - a consideration that has barely even crossed his mind in the past - and scaring Felix away. When he thinks about it, which he only somewhat lets himself do, he realizes that this isn’t a fling he’s ready to ditch after one date, and as such, he wants to be on his best behavior.

Well, Sylvain’s version of best behavior, which admittedly isn’t _sterling_ behavior.

Besides, he still thinks back to the day he sat with Felix at the restaurant, that first tentative meeting of the minds. He remembers Felix calling him out on his shallowness, telling him he didn’t like the false flirting. Outright refusing to entertain it, really. So Sylvain is listening, even if it takes monumental effort not to lean over and nuzzle his nose into Felix’s neck and say something cheesy.

The show begins. Felix leans forward on his elbows when the knights come galloping out on horseback, enraptured. When the food arrives, Felix only picks at it, too absorbed in the show, until Sylvain laughs and nudges him with his elbow. 

It’s a good show, one Sylvain absolutely adores whenever he can get out to see it, but honestly he is getting more enjoyment out of watching Felix than he is the spectacle in front of them. Felix, who doesn’t even look down when he picks up morsels of food to eat, eyes locked on the display of martial prowess. Felix, who tilts his head at an angle when he drinks so he doesn’t have to look away. Felix, who, while he doesn’t burst into raucous, overblown cheering like Sylvain does every time the Green Knight scores a hit, breaks into this little private delighted smile each time. 

It is, frankly, adorable as all hell.

Sylvain wants to kiss him.

It must be their scripted lucky day, because the Green Knight emerges victorious. He makes the rounds, waving his sword in the air while the crowd cheers, and even Felix slams his palm down on the table and grins. Grins! Sylvain has never seen him bare teeth like that before. It’s amazing, and this is Sylvain’s moment.

Only very slightly playing up the euphoria from the victory, Sylvain slings an arm around Felix’s shoulders. He wants to grab Felix around the waist and pull him so they are flush together, all shared warmth and electricity, but he keeps to the shoulders. Felix stiffens for a moment before relaxing, just the slightest bit, against Sylvain’s side.

“That was a great show, wasn’t it?” Sylvain says into Felix’s ear. Just to make sure he’s heard, and definitely not for any other reason.

“It makes me want to go home and polish my swords,” Felix says, and Sylvain almost chokes on his tongue trying to keep from laughing.

He really can’t help himself. “Do you need help… polishing your sword? I happen to be free this evening,” he says, winking and wiggling his eyebrows.

Felix shoves him backward so that his arm slides off his shoulders and rolls his eyes, but Sylvain sees the little smile on his lips, hears the little huff of laughter. It makes him lean over, bumping Felix’s shoulder with his own as he laughs. Felix gives him a withering look, but his eyes are saying something else, something fond, so Sylvain doesn’t mind at all.

In the cab on the way back to Sylvain’s apartment, they chat easily about the show and about sword fighting and jousting and Sylvain’s horseback lessons and Felix’s fencing career in high school and it is comfortable, smooth. The time passes like nothing, and they find themselves in front of the stairs to Sylvain’s apartment, facing each other, neither sure what exactly to do next. Well, Sylvain knows what he wants to do next. He can only hope Felix is on board.

He reaches out, brushing Felix’s wrist above his glove, just a bare touch of fingers. Felix glances down, then holds his hand palm up. Sylvain recognizes an invitation when he sees one, and he wastes no time threading their gloved fingers together. He raises their twined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to Felix’s knuckles, absolutely fucking delighted when that blush Sylvain loves best spreads across Felix’s sharp cheekbones. 

“I’d like to do this again,” Sylvain says, his voice low and intimate.

Felix nods once before ducking his head. “I’d like that.”

Sylvain truly will combust if he has to watch Felix blush and huffily acquiesce to whatever Sylvain says for another second. He lifts his free hand, pressing his index finger to Felix’s chin to lift his head until they are face to face, scant inches between them, their breath commingling into little white puffs in the cold night air. 

“I’d also like to kiss you. I’d _really_ like that.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” It sounds like a challenge, the gruffness back in Felix’s voice, almost combative. 

Sylvain grins, just for a moment, before he leans in and seals Felix’s lips with his own.

His mind goes blessedly blank and he is tumbling, tumbling, tumbling down into a chasm of _want_ and _magic_ and _desire_. Vaguely he is aware of Felix’s hand coming up to tangle in the short hairs just above Sylvain’s neck. He slides his fingers to cup Felix’s jaw, his thumb rising up to stroke along his cheekbone. Their lips move softly against each other, the kiss bizarrely intimate for how short they have known each other. _But is it so short? It isn’t, is it?_ Sylvain thinks, distantly, the thought coming from outside himself.

And that’s when he hears Claude’s voice, “You should tell him, just think about it,” and he feels ice wash down his spine. God damnit.

Slowly he pulls away to rest his forehead against Felix’s, eyes closed while he savors what is left of this moment. He’ll tell him. He will.

But then Felix pulls back and scuffs his heel and looks so goddamn adorable that the words die in Sylvain’s throat. “I better go,” Felix says, letting Sylvain’s hand go and shoving his hands in his coat pockets as he is prone to doing. “But… we should do this again.” He pauses. “Soon.”

“We should,” Sylvain agrees with a smile that is only somewhat forced. He truly wants to. He’s just not sure Felix is going to want to, after Sylvain tells him the truth.

Whenever that courageous moment ends up being.

“Okay, well. Good night then,” Felix says. He nods his goodbye before walking off down the sidewalk.

Sylvain exhales and scrubs a hand down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medieval Times is the best place in the world, and if a date took me there I would immediately marry them.
> 
> I'm thinking of putting together a playlist for this fic, because I'm a tremendous sap. Would anyone actually be interested in that?
> 
> I honestly am so humbled and delighted by the support you all are giving this fic. Thank you so much for every comment and kudos and even just reading! I hope you continue to enjoy.


	7. Seven

They fall into a routine.

Sylvain is delighted to find that while Felix often responds with brevity, he does respond to every random text sent throughout the day. Everything from _I saw a cat that reminded me of you_ (response: _I am not a cat but I own a cat_ , which is fucking adorable) to _did you know spiders don’t have ears_ (response: _Okay and why are you telling me this?_ ). Sylvain starts off slow, not wanting to overwhelm Felix, but the responses he gets encourages him to send even more, and soon his whole day is spent looking goofily at his phone. Dorothea gives him snarky but well-meaning comments. Claude heckles him relentlessly. Mercedes tells him he is adorable in a little-kid-with-an-ice-cream-cone way.

They go on two more dates. One to the history museum, because they have an antique weaponry exhibit that Felix absolutely must see. Second, to the zoo, which is completely strategic on Sylvain’s part. It is cold outside, and Sylvain runs hot, and Felix is constantly cold, so it is only natural that Sylvain would put his arm around his shoulders or that Felix would, just barely, snuggle up into his side. Felix bitches about the cold but seems enraptured by the animals, so Sylvain counts it as a win.

There is kissing. Oh, the kissing. Felix kisses like he might die without it, all bite and intensity and desire. Sylvain is the one who gentles them out, steers them into softer territory. Not that he doesn’t get swept up in the passion, don’t get him wrong. Sometimes the way Felix tugs his hair or drags his nails down Sylvain’s back or, goddess help him, growls in the back of his throat drives Sylvain nearly mad. And were this anyone else, he would have jumped into bed weeks ago.

But this isn’t anyone else. This is Felix, and Sylvain is… well, he can admit it. He’s head over heels for the damn guy.

The thing is, Sylvain is good at making terrible decisions. Those terrible decisions usually are made with his dick. So in this particular instance, he is trying to keep his dick out of it. You know, just to see how it goes.

And so the weeks drift by in a haze of honeymoon period endorphins, until one day Claude stops him with an arm across the door jamb of his room when he is trying to enter, nose buried in his phone.

“We need to talk,” Claude says, and Sylvain’s stomach drops because he knows the look on Claude’s face and it’s not one he likes.

“Oh, sure,” Sylvain says, breezing into the living room as if he isn’t drowning in an ice cold pit of worry and despair. He settles on the couch and pats the cushion next to him. “Let’s hear it, buddy.”

Claude settles himself on the couch, sitting facing him with one leg bent underneath him. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is pursed, and Sylvain distantly thinks that it’s not a good look on him, handsome devil that he usually is. 

“Things seem to be going well with Felix,” Claude starts. He rests a hand on top of his knee, tapping with one finger.

Oh. _Oh._ Now Sylvain knows what this is about, and if he said it made the icy dread wash away, he would be lying.

“Yeah, you know,” Sylvain hedges, waving a hand in the air. “Pretty good, now that you mention it.”

“You know why I’m mentioning it, Sylvain.” Claude’s voice is hard and no-nonsense, matching the stern look in his eyes. “You haven’t told him yet, have you?”

Sylvain looks away guiltily. “I mean, not exactly.” Not exactly, just like he said _weeks_ ago, and he frowns. “I just haven’t had the opportunity. I’m going to.”

“When? When is going to be the right time?” Claude huffs in exasperation. “Dude, the time when it was socially acceptable to drop that bomb has already passed. The longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s already going to be really fucking bad.”

“Don’t you think that’s why I haven’t done it yet?” Sylvain bursts out, clenching his fists in his lap. “Of course it’s going to be fucking bad, and I don’t want to ruin what is a _really great_ \--time.” He bites off the word relationship before it can slip out. They haven’t talked about that. They haven’t agreed to be exclusive. Sylvain _has_ been exclusive; Dorothea even commented on the fact that he’s not constantly trying to pick up anyone with a pulse. But they haven’t, like, committed to be boyfriends or anything. 

Claude softens a little - but only a little. “I get it. You’re scared. But it’s time to man up and be honest. Seriously. He’s good for you, even I can see that. You might be on your phone all the damn time-” he smiles “- but I can tell you’ve changed, and for the better. So don’t fuck it up. Be honest with him, and _now_. Not soon. Not when you have a chance. Now.”

Sylvain rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t even know how to tell him.”

“Give me your phone.” Claude holds his hand out, and Sylvain lifts his hand, then hesitates.

“Why?”

Claude rolls his eyes. “Give me the phone, Sylvain.”

Sylvain trusts Claude. He does. Does that stop him from being apprehensive about whatever Claude has in mind? Well, no. But he unlocks the phone and hands it over anyway.

Claude scrolls a bit and then starts typing. “You’re not telling him… over a text message, are you?” Sylvain can’t help but ask.

“Yes, of course,” Claude deadpans. “Because you keeping this secret isn’t bad enough.”

Sylvain scoots closer on the couch, craning his neck so he can see what Claude is invariably texting Felix. It’s actually pretty tame.

**Sylvain** : hey, got something to talk to you about. can we meet up?

Okay. Okay, that’s not so bad. Casual. Felix texts back instantly, which is… well, unusual. Usually he takes a bit. Was it not so casual after all? Is he spooked? He leans over again to look.

**Felix** : I have a work thing for the next couple of days. After that?

**Sylvain** : k sounds good

Claude hands his phone back over and he resists the urge to text again saying never mind, he never needs to see him again because he is, in fact, a gigantic pussy, just like Claude said.

“You got this, man,” Claude says, all smiles and encouragement now. With the confession looming, Sylvain can’t find it in him to be more than slightly relieved.

\---

Felix has never done a 24 hour stream before, and he would be lying if he said he’s not a little apprehensive about it. The primary reason for that is not the fact that he will be on for 24 hours, excluding a few breaks now and then, but rather because he is usually a one man show and in this case he will be teaming up with three other streamers. They have quite the line-up planned: multiplayer horror games featuring the four of them, interspersed with sections where they each do their own thing. Felix has spent three days curating the indie horror game titles he’s going to play, aiming for short but impactful and, hopefully, scary as shit. Not for him - he doesn’t get scared except in very rare instances - but he loves chat’s response when they get the bajesus scared out of them.

It’s a charity stream. Otherwise, Felix isn’t sure he would be putting himself through the stress of collaborating. It’s something the four of them feel strongly about, and with current events… well. It just seems right.

He went for a long run and ate a good meal after a nice shower - made especially nice when he took himself in hand thinking about Sylvain, not that he would ever, ever admit that to literally anyone else, especially the man himself. He fed the cat and set up his cooler of drinks next to his desk. He is standing, hands on his hips, looking over his space to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, when his phone dings.

Right. Better put the phone on silent. Thanks for the reminder, Sylvain.

**Sylvain** : good luck w your work thing!! i bet you will be amazing bc youre amazing at everything ;)

Felix squints down at his phone, ignoring the warmth blooming in his chest. Why does it feel like Sylvain knows what he’s doing? He’s been so careful not to give any details, and Sylvain hasn’t pushed. Sylvain does know he keeps odd hours, so maybe that’s why he’s texting now. Just… the timing is suspicious, that’s all.

But more importantly, Felix has to fight down the warm fuzzies dancing around in his stomach. He rolls his eyes at himself as he types a reply.

**Felix** : Thanks. I’ll be focusing so don’t expect to hear from me until tomorrow. 

_I’ll miss your stupid idiot texts and the way they make my insides do weird things_ , he doesn’t add.

**Sylvain** : yeah ofc i don’t want to break your concentration! see you tomorrow :) :)

Felix switches his phone to silent and sets it on the desk. He glances at the clock: ten minutes to go. He sits down, cracks his knuckles, and gets ready.

“Let’s do this,” he says fiercely.

\---

They are up to $13,000 12 hours in. Felix is feeling it; he has the stamina of a horse, but this is the longest he’s ever streamed and he does feel a little overwhelmed by the fact that they are only halfway there. It’s worth it though, looking at the little tracker gif that overlays the screen, watching it go up and up and up. The goal is $20,000 and he really thinks they will be able to hit it, maybe even surpass it.

It is his break right now, for another fifteen minutes. He is pacing back and forth in his office, trying to will some feeling back into his legs. He has had a snack, downed a bottle of water, and done a series of stretches. It’s going well. He knows it is. His back, though, is not convinced.

He glances over at his desk, at his phone, at the little clock on the wall that says it is 9:00 a.m. Sighing through his nose, he frowns. There’s no way Sylvain is awake right now. Felix knows that Sylvain keeps late hours too, due to working the late shift at the restaurant, and he really, really doesn’t need to be bothering him right now. But…

Felix can’t help himself.

**Felix** : Work thing is going well but there’s a lot left to do. I’m feeling tired already. Sorry to bother you while you’re sleeping.

_I just wanted to talk to you_ , he thinks, but does not type.

He jumps when his phone dings not two minutes later.

**Sylvain** : i’m not sleeping yet! glad your work thing is good. do you need me to come over and wake you up? ;)

Felix huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes, even though Sylvain is not there to see it. 

**Felix** : You really are insatiable, aren’t you?

**Sylvain** : only when it comes to you, baby ;)

And that does not, does _not_ , make a warm spot bloom in Felix’s chest. He knows Sylvain is a flirt. He flirts with anything with legs. Servers, the guy at the coffee shop, the ticket woman at Medieval Times, their fucking Uber driver. It’s like a compulsion for him. But Felix knows, at some level, that it is superficial, that he doesn’t mean it. Except, maybe, Felix hopes, when it comes to him.

**Felix** : I’m flattered. I have to get back to work.

**Sylvain** : ok. good luck with the rest of your thing!! i am cheering for you <3

**Felix** : Thanks. (He hesitates, considers too long, then finally gives in.) :)

What Felix doesn’t see: Sylvain clutching his chest ten minutes away, a giant goofy smile on his face as he presses his lips to his phone.

It’s ridiculous, but Felix feels completely refreshed by ten minutes of stupid fucking texts. He shakes his head at himself as he settles back into his chair and slides his headphones back on. 

It’s his turn, and he boots up one of the indie horror titles he picked out for this stream. As he plays, the donations keep coming in. Some of them have messages attached, which he reads aloud as acknowledgment, and some don’t. He is lost in a hedge maze when a donation pops up.

**ladykiller69 has donated $25!** “Hi Wolfie! I recently met someone I really really like but I have a secret and I am scared to tell him because he might leave. What do I do? :( thanks <3”

“Wolfie?” Felix echoes, his voice laced with disgust. “Don’t ever call me that again. Anyway.” He meanders through the hedge maze, voice going thoughtful. “You should definitely tell him. If you’re going to have a relationship, it needs to be built on honesty.”

He pauses. Honesty. He… hasn’t exactly been honest with Sylvain, considering he has a whole separate life that he hasn’t mentioned. Occasionally he outright lies - lies of omission mostly, but lies nonetheless - about things like “a work thing” or “computer stuff.” Maybe he should take his own advice... but the thought makes his stomach turn.

“He might be pissed, depending on what this secret is, but I can guarantee that not telling him, and him finding out on his own, would be worse. It always is.”

And it is, isn’t it? What would Sylvain do if he found out that Felix was an internet celebrity but didn’t trust him enough with his identity to tell him? 

Shit.

Felix thinks to their text exchange the day before, how they will be meeting the day after tomorrow. Sylvain has something to tell him, but maybe Felix has something to say, too. Maybe it is indeed time for him to follow his own advice.

\---

Sylvain didn’t sleep - or rather, he slept for a couple of very restless hours. He thought he would be wiped after staying up for almost a full 24 hour stream (he had tapped out at hour 16 for two hours, but immediately hopped back on for the end), but it turns out fear is a great motivator for staying awake. The thought of telling Felix everything makes him feel sick with nerves, but he has to do it. He knows Claude will absolutely follow him to the coffeeshop they agreed to meet at and stand tapping his foot until Sylvain ‘fesses up, so it has to be now or never.

He spends too long in the shower, killing time, and when he is ready to go, tousling his hair, he can’t help but notice the circles under his eyes and the drawn twist of his lips. Christ, he looks like he’s about to go to his own execution. 

“It might go well, you know,” Claude says from his position leaning in the doorway of the bathroom with his arms crossed over his chest. “I mean, keeping it from him was shitty, but maybe it won’t be the disaster you’re expecting it to be.”

“ _You_ saying that after all your lectures is actually pretty damn funny,” Sylvain snipes, unable to contain his sour mood. 

Claude snickers. “You’re right, it’ll probably go exactly how you expect it to if you don’t remove that giant stick from your anus.” He turns and walks off, calling over his shoulder, “Good luck!”

“I’ll show you a stick in my anus,” Sylvain mutters, but deep down, he knows Claude is right. He just won’t admit it. To anyone. Ever.

He gets to the coffeeshop early and briefly wonders why every Serious Conversation he and Felix have takes place here. Maybe it is time to boycott this establishment so that only happy things will happen in their relationship now. That’s what he’s thinking when he doesn’t even acknowledge the cashier flirting with him while he swipes his card to pay for the two drinks he ordered.

“That’s unusual,” comes a voice from behind him. 

Sylvain spins around, eyebrows raising when he sees Felix standing there with his arms crossed, surprised by his appearance as if they weren’t planning to meet. “Oh, hey,” he says, a little unsteady. Sylvain takes a step forward and, despite every ounce of his being saying to do so, does not hug or kiss Felix. Felix quirks an eyebrow, frowning, knowing that whatever is going on is more serious than he thought.

“What’s unusual?” Sylvain asks as he leads them over to the counter to wait for their drinks.

“You didn’t even flirt with the cashier despite the fact she was all over your asshole,” Felix says drily. 

Sylvain glances over at the cashier, then back at Felix. “Oh, was she? I didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t notice.” Felix’s voice is flat, disbelieving. “You didn’t notice? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you sick? Is… something going on?” Suddenly he looks nervous, not quite looking at Sylvain, eyebrows drawn into a V. 

“No, I-- I mean, I’m fine. Let’s just talk, okay?” Their drinks are up and Sylvain grabs them both before wandering over to, coincidentally, the same table they sat at before. He pulls off his coat and Felix does the same before they both sink into the chairs.

“You’re worrying me,” Felix says softly, still not meeting Sylvain’s eyes, still looking for all the world like Sylvain is about to tell him he routinely kicks puppies and shoves children into oncoming traffic. 

Sylvain takes a sip of his drink and scalds his tongue. Well, it’s what he deserves, he figures. “I don’t mean to worry you. I just… I have something I need to tell you. Something I haven’t been, uh, exactly honest about.”

Felix does look at him then, his expression going hard. Oh no. Lying must be a Thing for him. Sylvain is so fucked.

“Hear me out. Please,” Sylvain says faintly, thoroughly intimidated by the look on Felix’s face. 

“Fine.” Felix’s drink remains untouched and he folds his arms across his chest again, all walls and barriers and barbed wire Sylvain isn’t sure he’ll be able to cross. 

“Okay.” Sylvain grips his coffee cup. “Okay. Um. I’m not really sure how to say this…”

“Sylvain. Get _on_ with it,” Felix snaps.

“Right. Okay. Well. Uh. I kind of… know who you are.” Sylvain rubs the back of his neck, voice dropping quiet. “You know. Your, uh, _job_.”

Felix is a pale man, but all the blood visibly drains from his face at this confession. His hands clench into fists, but he says nothing.

“I know I’m a dick for not saying anything sooner. I promise I know that. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” He pauses. “Say something, please. Your silence is killing me, Felix.”

“How long have you known?” Felix manages between gritted teeth.

“Um. Since the first day we met, when you were at the restaurant with Annette. I recognized your voice and, well, I’ve been a big fan for _years_ now and I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to meet you in person.”

Felix looks about three seconds from punching Sylvain in the face. Again. “So what, this was a way to catch the celebrity? What do you want from me? Fame? Fortune? A good story to tell when you finally get your dick wet?” He is outright snarling now, and Sylvain can’t help but shrink back from it.

“No!” he exclaims quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “Felix, _no_. It’s nothing like that, I swear. It’s like… like… I wanted to get to know you. I wanted you to get to know me. I wanted you to realize I’m serious about this. It’s not some warped bid for fame and fortune or a good story. I have--” _been crushing on you for three years_ “--been interested in you for a while. The fact I got to meet you in person and get to know the real you? Dream come true. Honestly.

“Besides,” he adds, “I know about your need for privacy. The only person I’ve told is Claude, and that’s because he kind of forced me to.” Sylvain laughs faintly. “I would never, what, brag about you? That’s not who I am.”

Felix is quiet for a worryingly long time. Sylvain lets him be. They sit in awkward silence, Sylvain spinning his cup around and around in his fingers, Felix staring a hole into the table as his expression visibly softens into something less murderous.

“I guess I owe you an apology,” Felix says gruffly after a truly obscene amount of time has gone by, allowing Sylvain to quietly ramp up his panic. 

“Wait, what?”

Felix uncrosses his arms and puts them at his sides, a ceasefire. “I wasn’t really honest with you either. I could have told you who I was. I could have trusted you with it. I didn’t.”

Sylvain’s head is absolutely spinning. Not only is Felix not running from him after breaking both of his kneecaps, but he’s _apologizing_? It doesn’t seem real.

“Well I mean, I get why you didn’t,” Sylvain says. “You’ve spent years hiding who you are. We’ve only known each other a couple of months.”

“Yeah.” They sit in silence again, but it’s a little less awkward this time. Then, “Do I know who you are?”

_Oh no_. Another landmine, but Sylvain is all in on the honesty train now. “Er, maybe.”

Felix looks at him expectantly.

“I’m, uh, ladykiller69.”

“ _What_.” The force of that _what_ nearly knocks him out of the chair. “You mean we were already seeing each other when you dropped 250 fucking dollars on gift subs?”

“Ha ha, well,” Sylvain tries.

“I am going to _break_ your jaw this time,” Felix growls. “That’s just… I can’t believe… _Jesus_ , Sylvain.”

“In my defense…” He doesn’t have a defense. He wanted to do it, and that’s all the defense he has. “Um. I was trying to be nice.”

Felix closes his eyes and tilts his head slightly back as if he is praying to the goddess above for strength. When he looks at Sylvain again, he looks stern, like a parent chiding his son. “Look, if this--” he gestures between them “--is going anywhere, you can’t do that anymore. Ever. You’re not my sugar daddy.”

Sylvain swears he can hear an angelic chorus absolutely going to town at the table next to them. “If this is going anywhere…?”

Turning his head to the side, trying to hide the faint blush spreading across his cheeks, Felix coughs into his hand. “I mean, I still want it to. If you do.” He pauses and looks hard at Sylvain again. “But you have to be honest with me from now on, even if you think I’m going to be pissed. I can’t stand lying. I’m serious about this.”

“I promise,” Sylvain is quick to say. 

He slowly reaches across the table, putting his hand palm up, an invitation. Felix looks at it for a moment, then tentatively places his hand in Sylvain’s. They twine their fingers together, and Sylvain is outright beaming, and even Felix has a small smile on his lips. A weight has been lifted from both of them.

_The future’s looking good_ , Sylvain thinks, giddy. _So damn good_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -whispers- _I love Claude so much_
> 
> This chapter was a bitch to write. I had serious writer's block, so I'm very sorry this update took longer than usual. Hopefully the fact it's a bit longer makes up for it.
> 
> Be honest with your partners, kids!
> 
> I know I do the same old song and dance every chapter, but I have to say thank you so, so, so much to everyone who is reading and leaving kudos and commenting. You are truly keeping me going when I want to give up on this project. Every single message is so precious to me.
> 
> The playlist is coming. I'm just not quite happy with it yet.
> 
> We're approaching the end! But don't worry, I have another few ideas for these idiots that I might write in the future. Speaking of writing other things for these idiots, I invite you to check out [The LoneWolf Challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560125), a very horny one-shot set in the future of this story, written for Sylvain's birthday.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Thank you again.


	8. Eight

Felix is, well, _happy_. He doesn’t remember being happy like this, and it frustrates him to be dependent on someone else for this kind of happiness. But, as Annette likes to remind him, he wasn’t unhappy before. He is just happier now. It’s not a bad thing, she insists, to get lost in a romance, and she also insists that she and Ashe need to meet Sylvain properly, and soon. Like they are his parents and Sylvain is asking for his hand. It would be ridiculous if it wasn’t so endearing (no, it is still ridiculous). 

He still hasn’t invited Sylvain to his apartment. There is something about having him, or anyone really aside from Annette and Ashe, in his space that unsettles him a lot more than he is comfortable with. He knows, _knows_ , that Sylvain would want to see his office, and he doesn’t know why, but giving a _fan_ access to a behind-the-scenes look like that? It just doesn’t sit right. Even though he knows Sylvain is more than just a fan, knows that he has sunk tenterhooks into Felix’s heart and is holding on with superhuman strength, he is still anxious about it. He doesn’t know why. What is Sylvain going to do, take pictures and post them on Instagram?

Sylvain has no such qualms about letting Felix come to his apartment. He has met Claude formally, as awkward and stilted as that meeting ended up being. _Oh hey you’re the guy who punched him in the jaw and is now dating him, what’s up_ and _hey I am the streamer he has, apparently, been obsessed with for years and is now dating, hello_. 

To Felix’s endless horny frustration, Sylvain has not tried to sleep with him yet.

He doesn’t understand this. From Dorothea’s comments when they went to the restaurant together one day ( _“Oh, you’re Sylvain’s new man, then? Sylvie, have you given up being a complete slut for monogamy?”_ with a little tinkling laugh) to the little hints Claude keeps dropping about Sylvain being a manwhore, not to mention his absolutely ridiculous username, Felix has gathered that Sylvain sleeps around a lot. It doesn’t really bother him. He has also gathered that Sylvain put a stop to this behavior around the time Felix officially came into his life, so he’s not worried about Sylvain straying. Not that they’ve agreed to be exclusive, but he damn well is so he dares hope Sylvain is doing the same.

But he doesn’t have time for that at the moment, because he is setting up a Patreon with all its associated perks and the damn thing is more complicated than he anticipated and he is getting pissed, so pissed, at setting up the different tiers. Earlier, he texted Sylvain that he was working on a big project that Sylvain should watch out for. He still doesn’t know why he did that. He doesn’t want Sylvain to become a Patreon supporter, although he strongly suspects that he will anyway. He really does want to keep Sylvain’s sugar daddy tendencies to a minimum.

_I’m spoiling you, Felix,_ Sylvain said. _Can’t I support you?_

_No,_ Felix snarked back.

It just isn’t working. He needs a change of scenery, and it definitely isn’t because Sylvain is at work that he decides to pack up his laptop in a ratty old blue messenger bag and head to GM Brewery. Despite the cold, he walks there. A 20 minute walk is necessary, at the moment, to help him come to terms with the fact that he is already so reliant on Sylvain that just the thought of seeing him, even while he’s working, makes him feel like he can beat this Patreon nonsense and feel good about it in the process.

Ridiculous.

He didn’t intend it, but he shows up before the restaurant gets busy, so Sylvain is sitting at the bar wrapping silverware when he arrives. Dorothea smiles, a hint of a teasing grin in it. “Hello, Felix,” she says, grabbing a menu. She pauses with the menu in her hand. “Will you be eating today?”

Felix glances over at Sylvain, then adjusts his messenger bag strap across his chest. “Yeah.”

“Sylvain, you have a customer,” Dorothea calls as she leads Felix over to his usual booth in the corner. Sylvain looks over, and the way his face absolutely lights up when he sees Felix is… well, it’s something. Something that makes Felix inordinately happy.

Sylvain jumps out of his chair and comes over, taking the menu from Dorothea and shooing her away. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a snarky, beautiful man today?” he grins, nudging Felix with his shoulder before he leans down to smack a kiss on his cheek. 

Felix grabs his wrist to stop him from walking, keeping his eyes locked on the floor as the blush rises to his cheeks and Sylvain looks at him curiously. Turning to him, Felix drops his head forward until his forehead is pressed to Sylvain’s shoulder. Sylvain makes a startled noise; it is rare for Felix to initiate contact, and even rarer for him to do it in public. This doesn’t stop him from turning to Felix and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, cradling him to his chest. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Sylvain murmurs. Felix does not, _does not_ turn hot at the pet name. 

“I’m frustrated with a project,” he whines. Well, as close to whining as Felix gets, anyway. He nuzzles into Sylvain’s embrace, though his arms stay hanging at his sides while he keeps his forehead pressed into his shoulder. “I have all these ideas and I just can’t get them to work the way I want them to.”

Sylvain soothingly runs his hand up and down Felix’s back, and Felix relaxes by degrees. After another couple of moments, Sylvain leads them over to the booth. Felix slinks in, and, surprising him, Sylvain follows, so they are sitting next to each other, thigh pressed to thigh and shoulder pressed to shoulder. It’s a little uncomfortable since Felix’s messenger bag is digging into his back, but he will deal with the discomfort for the thrill of the touch. 

He never realized how touch starved he really was until he met Sylvain.

“Now, tell me about it,” Sylvain says gently, taking Felix’s hand and running his fingers back and forth across his open palm.

Felix doesn’t mean to. He never planned to. But he does. He tells Sylvain the whole plan, each of the tiers and the perks for each tier, tells him the problems he’s having setting the tiers up right and setting up the 7 Days to Die server and the discord server and everything else. And while Sylvain doesn’t exactly get it, doesn’t know how to help, he does listen and as Felix talks he starts to unwind. By the time he’s done, he has a few new ideas, and his stomach isn’t quite tied up in knots the way it was when he was bashing his face against his keyboard at home. 

“Have you thought about asking your mods for help?” Sylvain asks. 

Felix frowns down at the table. “I always do this shit on my own.”

“I know, I know, you don’t like to ask for help,” Sylvain laughs. “But just think about it, okay?”

Huffing, Felix drops his head to rest on Sylvain’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He gives himself permission, just for a few minutes, just to _be_. In this moment he’s not a content creator struggling with work. In this moment he’s just a man and his--

“What are we, Sylvain?” Felix asks suddenly.

“Mm?” 

Felix lifts his head so they can look at each other properly, although his urge to drop eye contact is very strong, as it always is when faced with pesky things like _feelings_. “What are we to each other? I mean, we’ve been, uh, getting close, I think.” He pauses, debating, then adds, “Even though you won’t sleep with me.”

“Felix!” Sylvain splutters before slapping a hand to Felix’s mouth like he’s hiding some big secret. Felix licks his palm and he drops it, laughing. “I’ve been trying to, I don’t know… court you first.”

Felix snorts and then starts laughing, full-on laughing and not his usual huffs of laughter or snickers. “Is this 1812? What the fuck are you talking about?” he gets out between peals of laughter.

“Look,” Sylvain says, looking equal parts put out and endeared. “I don’t exactly have a good track record with relationships. I have been _trying_ not to screw this one up, thank you very much.”

Slowly Felix comes down from his laughing fit, wiping his eyes and finally looking at Sylvain again. “I get it,” he says at last. “It makes… more sense now. I thought there was something wrong with me.” He says it offhandedly, like this isn’t something he has been agonizing over for weeks, but Sylvain’s gaze turns sharp like he knows exactly what Felix has been thinking.

“That’s not it at all,” Sylvain insists. “Felix, baby,” he takes their hands and presses a kiss to Felix’s palm, “I want nothing more than to sleep with you. Everywhere. All the time. I’m warning you, if you’re opening the floodgates, you’re going to regret it.”

Felix gives him a flat look. “Let me decide what I’m going to regret.”

“And will you regret tying yourself to someone like me?” Sylvain _also_ says this offhandedly, as if Felix isn’t going to see right through that shit.

“I don’t know why you hate yourself so much, but you need to stop it,” Felix snaps, Thoroughly Done with this kind of talk about someone he happens to like very much. “I told you I wanted to see where this goes, right?”

Sylvain looks startled, then chagrined. “You did,” he admits sheepishly. “I just wanted to make sure you meant it.”

“I mean it when I say that you’re mine now and you better not fuck around with anyone else,” Felix says fiercely, staring at the table. His face is burning, and he has never felt more like a lovestruck 15-year-old than he does right this second.

Fingers gentle over his chin, turning his head. Sylvain is looking at him like he hangs the moon and stars and sun in the sky. “I can handle that,” he says softly, leaning in and pressing their lips together.

“I hate to interrupt,” a voice interrupts in a lazy drawl, “but Sylvain, you are planning to get some work done today, right?”

Felix looks up at Claude, who is standing with a hand on his hip and sporting a shit-eating grin, knowing _exactly_ what he’s doing, and fixes him with a death glare. Claude just keeps on grinning, and continues to grin as Sylvain kisses Felix’s cheek and slides out of the booth. 

Oh well. He has work to do anyway. He tells Sylvain to bring him whatever - he guesses he _should_ in fact eat since he’s here - pulls out his laptop, and gets to work.

\---

**Felix** : Don’t think I didn’t notice you joined at the top tier, asshole.

 **Sylvain** : ooo am i in trouble ;)

**Felix** : I am going to smack your smug mouth.

**Sylvain** : i love when you’re mean to me. it gets me all hot & bothered

While he can’t necessarily see Felix slamming his phone down with a red face and pouting lips, Sylvain sure can imagine it. The radio silence he gets afterwards only confirms that it was totally worth it.

He settles in on the new discord server and only gets in three scuffles on his first day, so he figures he’s doing all right. The mods know him so he gets off scot free each time, and he doesn’t even feel guilty about it, because he is LoneWolf’s _boyfriend_ and that means that ladykiller70 is just going to have to get over having his name taken (and honestly, Sylvain has had this nickname for years; he’s not going to give it up for some idiot on the internet). Felix affectionately calls him a fool when he finds out about these shenanigans, but he doesn’t upbraid Sylvain for his behavior so hey, that’s a win.

There are three Patreon tiers: first gets access to the discord and pictures of Felix’s cat. Second gets access to a special Patreon stream in which supporters get to play a game with Felix himself. Third is access to the exclusive 7 Days to Die server Felix has set up and will be playing during his free time. 

( _You’re not overextending yourself, are you sweetheart?_ Sylvain had asked, and had gotten a _Shut up, idiot_ in reply.)

Honestly, as one of the tier three supporters, Sylvain is _delighted_. He knows he can’t commandeer all of Felix’s time, in person or online, but a 7 Days server? A Patreon stream? These are ways he can still have time with Felix. He can’t wait.

Tonight is the Patreon stream, and Felix has decided that they will play the old standby, Dead By Daylight. Sylvain has been, _gasp_ , selected to participate in the first group, and that’s not favoritism at _all_ , Sylvain says in a series of increasingly obnoxious texts before Felix tells him to go fuck himself. He can’t wait.

“Hey, I’m going to order some dinner, do you want an--”

“SHHHHH.” Sylvain waves his hand insistently at Claude, not even looking away from his laptop screen. “I’m trying to hype myself up!”

Claude slides into the room and looks over Sylvain’s shoulder. “Oh, this is that multiplayer killer game, right?”

“I get to be killer tonight. With Felix. And his many, many fans. No pressure, right?” Sylvain grins sardonically, but his eyes are sparkling. 

“You love it,” Claude laughs, cuffing Sylvain on the shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sylvain says with a goofy grin. 

Claude rolls his eyes, smiling. “I have never seen you so smitten in all the years we’ve known each other. Does _he_ know how far gone you are?”

“No! No no no!” Sylvain reaches up and smooshes his palm against Claude’s face. A brief scuffle ensues, during which Sylvain emphasizes, “You have lectured me and meddled more than enough for one relationship. No more! I refuse!”

Claude finally relents, taking a step back with his hands raised defensively. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll stay out of it. I’m just saying though, buddy, you look like a lovesick idiot in the best way possible.” He winks and starts to leave. “Good luck with your big debut.”

Sylvain, once left in peace, tries again to hype himself up. He isn’t very good at this game, sitting at a lowly rank 19, and Felix is rank one so Sylvain is obviously going to embarrass himself. He only hopes the rest of the players will be just as terrible as he is.

Finally, after what feels like a simply interminable amount of time, Felix goes live. “Evening, Patreons,” he greets, and just the sound of his voice makes a low coil of heat light in Sylvain’s belly.

Has he mentioned they still, three weeks later, have not slept together, due to general busyness and conflicting schedules? And that this fact is slowly, inexorably, killing him in every possible way?

Felix starts up the game. Sylvain is a survivor, alongside Felix and two others, in the first round. With a tremendous force of will, he does not immediately glom onto Felix and refuse to let go. He goes around the map getting chased by the killer and doing generators and being a good little boy. He bets Felix is impressed. He’s impressed with himself. The most he does is teabag in Felix’s general direction when they happen upon each other in the middle of the corn field. To his great delight, he gets a murmured, “You’re such an idiot,” in response, and even though hundreds of people can hear it, Sylvain feels like Felix has just mumbled it directly into his ear. 

Felix is Felix, and LoneWolf is just part of Felix, but having LoneWolf speak directly to him makes him practically ascend.

He stays in for three survivor rounds, and then he’s up to play killer. This brings him a little consternation as he has played killer approximately twice in his entire life and doesn’t really want to truly embarrass himself, but Felix insists and Sylvain is finding that he is absolutely unable to say no to that boy, so here he is. He picks Spirit because, as he says in the chat, “shes cute lol.” 

A killer with no experience plus a seasoned player and three of his friends? Goes exactly how you would expect it to.

“I guess there are no ladies here, because you can’t kill shit,” Felix snickers. Sylvain would feel wounded, but he’s too amused. 

In the end he doesn’t kill a single person, but he does spend a good three minutes getting looped around a series of pallets by Felix, so he thinks, really, that he won.

And that’s the end of his big debut. Another group cycles in and Sylvain moves to his bed to watch on his laptop, grinning like a goofy, lovestruck idiot, just like Claude said, the whole goddamn time. 

When the 7 Days to Die server launches, Sylvain is almost giddy. He picked the game up a year ago and burnt himself out on it pretty quickly, but this time a) he’s with other people and b) one of those other people is Felix, so he thinks it will be okay. The group of them dick around a bit, collecting resources and getting started, then formulate a plan to deal with their first seventh day. Felix puts Sylvain on trap duty.

**ladykiller69** : is it because i’m so good at trapping hearts ;)

**LoneWolf** : The only heart you’re going to trap is a zombie’s.

Sylvain _does_ get heavily invested, because he has a Plan. A plan to win over Felix’s heart once and for all. It requires a lot of grinding, but Felix, knowingly and unknowingly, keeps him company through it. When Sylvain’s not watching streams live or Felix’s YouTube videos, he is watching the recorded VODs on Twitch. Just hearing Felix’s smooth, low-pitched voice is enough to keep him going through this project.

Felix, however, does not seem to appreciate the effort he is putting in, not that he knows what the end goal is. After he misses participating in a Patreon only stream - he watched it, but didn’t play this time - because he’s busy grinding, he gets a text message.

**Felix** : Where the hell are you? You’ve never missed one of my streams.

**Sylvain** : i watched it! just working on something so i couldn’t play. why, did you miss me ;)

**Felix** : I missed roasting your terrible gameplay.

**Sylvain** : ouch :(

It takes almost a full week, but Sylvain finally, _finally_ has everything he needs. He finds a busted refrigerator in one of the highrises and puts his prize in it, confident that it is out of the way enough that no one will stumble across it before Felix can get there.

He leaves the coordinates in a discord message to Felix.

**LoneWolf** : What the hell is this?

**ladykiller69** : better go find out ;)

Sylvain waits, desperate for some kind of reaction, fidgeting to the point that he has to get up and go for a walk around the block. There’s a part of him that is worried that the shiny new motorcycle he left in the fridge for Felix, that he spent an entire week grinding materials and skill points for, will fall on this side of _too much_. 

Let no one say he’s not committed.

When he gets back from his walk, a message is waiting for him. Two messages, actually.

**LoneWolf** : I’m going to kill you.  
 **LoneWolf** : Want to come over?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been like a year since I played 7 Days to Die, I can't remember if the motorcycle is an item you can store in a fridge, and google wasn't really helping me, so forgive me if I am wrong about that. Also, I'm sorry DBD features so heavily in this fic but I am a slut for that game despite being bad at it.
> 
> I am also a slut for Felix being soft against his will, because that boy is so prickly but he loves so deep.
> 
> Although he will never read this, I have to give my roommate thanks and credit for the motorcycle idea, the "there must be no ladies here" line, and ladykiller70 - who is Lorenz, the boy who got so pissed that he couldn't do 69 that he just did the next best thing. He bitches about it incessantly in the discord chat.
> 
> We're almost there! You may have noticed there is a chapter count now. We have one more chapter, then an epilogue, bringing us to the nice round number 10. 
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you again and as always for all your comments and kudos. You are all amazing and I love you.
> 
> I'm over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/snarkyperson) if you want to come say hi! I am very awkward and shy but I would absolutely love to meet you!


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating's going up with this one, friends. If that's not your jam, uhhh you might want to skip to the last few paragraphs lol.

It’s a date. That’s the best way Sylvain can think to describe what is about to happen. Sure, the date may be happening at Felix’s apartment, but first of all, he gets to _see_ Felix’s apartment. Second, they are going to play 7 Days to Die together, in the same room, and Sylvain thinks that is just the cutest goddamn thing he has been part of in a long while.

He might also be optimistically thinking that _other things_ might happen tonight, fucking finally, but he won’t get ahead of himself.

Felix only lives ten minutes away and Sylvain is predictably early, due to his inability to fucking wait for any goddamn thing, let alone this monumental moment. He loiters outside the building - a beautiful brownstone on a quiet street - for a couple of minutes, hands in his pockets and breath blowing out in white puffs in the cold winter air. Suddenly, the door opens. Sylvain looks over and immediately adopts a totally nonchalant posture because Felix is standing there, in black jeans and a black turtleneck, one eyebrow raised at him. 

“What the fuck are you doing just standing outside my apartment?” Felix demands.

Sylvain gives him his best charming smile. Judging by Felix’s expression, he is slightly amused but not charmed. He tones it down to a regular smile. “I didn’t want to be too early,” he says, shrugging with his hands still in his pockets.

“You look like more of an idiot standing there doing nothing. Come in, it’s freezing.”

Nodding, Sylvain climbs the five steps to the porch and follows Felix inside, upstairs, and into the apartment. He pauses to take off his shoes and coat, then looks around.

It is _gorgeous_.

Sylvain experiences a brief moment of intense jealousy. He knew being a streamer and content creator could be a lucrative enterprise but to be able to afford this place with its picture window and crown moulding and gleaming wood floors by himself means it must be even more lucrative than he thought. There are french doors leading to the kitchen. _French doors_. A little hallway branches off of the living room. The furniture is worn but in a comfortable way, and the couch looks comfy enough that Sylvain has a strong urge to bounce on it.

Hanging on the wall above and to the side of the antique fireplace are swords. Like, eight of them. Sylvain wants to laugh.

Felix is standing behind him, fidgeting, while he surveys the apartment. Finally realizing that Felix might be feeling a little uncomfortable and nervous, Sylvain turns to him with a 100 watt grin. “It’s gorgeous, Felix,” he says emphatically, and Felix relaxes a bit. 

“Well you might as well have the rest of the tour,” Felix says gruffly. He wanders down the hallway, pointing out his bedroom - which he does not let Sylvain into - and the bathroom at the end of the hall. He pauses in front of a closed door and takes a breath, and Sylvain knows this is it: this is his office.

Felix pushes his way inside and gestures with a hand. “Here it is,” he mumbles. Sylvain has never seen someone act so uncomfortable about a room before.

It looks pretty much exactly how Sylvain imagined it, really, with the addition of a Dead By Daylight huntress and trapper mask, a lot of video game-inspired art, and more swords. The desk is enormous and while it looks vaguely cluttered with equipment, everything is very orderly. There is a dark blue couch against the back wall.

“Is this for the lucky few viewers?” Sylvain grins, gesturing to the couch.

“Stupid,” Felix grumbles. “It’s for when I get too tired to go to my room to sleep. I don’t let viewers in here.”

Sylvain’s chest tightens with a suspiciously warm feeling. He steps forward and reaches out, twirling a lock of Felix’s ponytail around his finger with a soft smile. “I really appreciate that you let me see it,” he says honestly. 

Felix looks off to the side with a predictable blush. “Whatever. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” Sylvain says as he leans in. His fingers find Felix’s chin to tilt his head up for the kiss Sylvain has been waiting over a week to give him. Their lips press together, chaste at first but gaining in intensity as Felix slides his fingers into Sylvain’s belt loops to pull him flush against him and Sylvain presses his palm to the side of Felix’s neck. Soon it is a mesh of lips and tongue and _oh shit_ Sylvain is going to have to stop this now unless they want to abandon 7 Days in favor of immensely more pleasurable pursuits.

If Felix hadn’t declared in the discord server that he would be on tonight, Sylvain would not give a single shit about the 7 Days plan. He suspects Felix is also having second thoughts at this point.

Exerting every possible shred of willpower he possesses, Sylvain pulls away. Felix chases his lips before pulling away. His eyes are glazed, his lips kiss-red, and Sylvain wants _literally nothing more_ than to push him down on this couch and have his filthy way with him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely more than happy to continue this,” Sylvain says, and if he sounds a little breathless, well, it can’t be helped. “But you did promise your viewers you would be on tonight.”

Judging by the stormy expression that crosses Felix’s face, Sylvain guesses this is not what he wants to hear. He leans in to press a kiss to Felix’s forehead. “You _can_ cancel, of course. Emergency and all.” He smirks obnoxiously. “Emergency of the dick.”

Felix rolls his eyes and pushes past Sylvain to his desk chair. “You can set up on the couch,” he says, voice clipped. Sylvain isn’t offended. He imagines Felix is fighting the same half-boner that Sylvain himself is fighting and for the first time he wishes Felix was just an ordinary guy with no commitments because _goddamn_ does he want to climb him like a tree.

Per Felix’s instructions, he sets up his little gaming station on the couch. He definitely catches Felix staring at his ass when he leans over the top of the couch to reach the power outlet behind it, but Felix only looks away without comment, so Sylvain doesn’t call him out on it. He logs on the server and sees over Felix’s shoulder that he is doing the same.

This time, Felix doesn’t do voice chat. Sylvain suspects that’s because Felix thinks Sylvain can’t keep his mouth shut, but he, very surprisingly, does. Instead he flirts relentlessly in the in-game chat. Felix even flirts back, very very rarely, but it’s enough to draw attention, as evidenced by **cj_apprentice** asking, incredulous, if LoneWolf is actually flirting. Felix adamantly denies it and does not flirt again after that, but this certainly doesn’t stop Sylvain. He engages in just relentless fucking flirting for a good hour and a half.

**ladykiller69** : i got a new coat! do you want to see it lonewolf

**LoneWolf** : No. Why would I want to see your coat?

**ladykiller69** : oh i get it you prefer me out of it right ;)

Felix finally spins around in his chair and rips his headphones off. Sylvain raises his eyebrows and puts on his most innocent expression. Growling - and oh god that’s not hot at _all_ \- Felix jumps to his feet, grabs Sylvain’s laptop to set on the floor, and leans down with one hand on the back of the couch next to Sylvain’s head and the other on Sylvain’s thigh. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Felix asks, his voice biting.

Sylvain grins up at him. There are only a couple of inches between them, and it would be easy enough to lean up and capture those snarling lips. “I can think of a couple of ways to shut me up, if you’re interested,” he replies with a cheeky wink.

“I hate you,” Felix grumbles, but then he is straddling Sylvain’s lap, knees on either side of his hips, hands on his shoulders. Sylvain’s hands immediately go to Felix’s sides, sliding up under his shirt. Felix shivers against him, his eyes fluttering closed, and then they are kissing, hard and messy and desperate. The way Felix kisses, all bite and intensity, makes Sylvain’s heart seize up. 

Sylvain runs his tongue along the seam of Felix’s lips, and Felix willingly opens for him. Perhaps unknowingly, Felix slides closer on Sylvain’s lap, and he gasps into Sylvain’s mouth when their clothed erections brush against each other. Sylvain smiles against Felix’s mouth.

“Needy, aren’t you?” Sylvain asks as he pulls back for breath, voice husky.

“Shut up.” Felix leans in, pressing his mouth to the junction of Sylvain’s neck and shoulder. “I’ll show you needy,” he adds before he starts to lick and kiss there. Sylvain tilts his head back for better access, then hisses when Felix _bites_ , worrying the skin between his teeth and sucking hard enough that there is no way Sylvain won’t have a bruise after. Sylvain smirks; _this_ is the kind of bruise he always wanted from Felix.

Felix’s hands quest over Sylvain’s chest before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling up, up, up, over his head, then on the floor. He doesn’t hide the way he’s outright ogling Sylvain’s chest, his eyes dark and hungry. 

“This is hardly fair,” Sylvain mock-pouts. He reaches for Felix’s turtleneck and divests him of it. The sight of those sharp collarbones, the thought of which has tormented Sylvain for _weeks_ , is just as perfect as he could have imagined. Unable to help himself, he twists a hand in Felix’s ponytail and tugs, arching his head and neck back. Felix emits a low groan that Sylvain files away for later; seems like Felix likes it a bit rough. With Felix bent in a sinuous curve, Sylvain goes to work on his collarbones, licking across them, peppering kisses over and between them, biting at them. Meanwhile Felix fists a hand at his thigh while the other grips Sylvain’s shoulder hard enough that there will be five finger-shaped bruises come morning. Felix is panting while Sylvain laves his tongue over his collarbones, then bites at his neck, then kisses along his jaw. 

“Do you like this, sweetheart?” Sylvain murmurs against Felix’s neck, pretty sure he already knows the answer.

“Hng,” is Felix’s eloquent response. He can feel Sylvain’s predatory grin against his neck and growls. Felix slams their mouths back together, biting Sylvain’s bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood and digging his hand into Sylvain’s messy hair. Groaning, he starts to grind their cocks together, sweet undulations of his hips the memory of which will haunt Sylvain’s dreams for weeks to come.

Sylvain swallows hard. “As lovely as this is,” he says, keeping his voice deceptively light, “I think it would be vastly improved by losing the rest of our clothes.”

Felix is off him and stripping in an instant. He is down to his underwear when he lifts an eyebrow at Sylvain, who has not yet moved from his position on the couch and is instead watching very, very intently as each inch of skin is exposed. It is only upon realizing Sylvain’s gaze is so focused on him that Felix starts to show any kind of embarrassment. “Well?” he snaps, crossing his arms and looking off to the side.

“Just enjoying the show, sweetness,” Sylvain smirks. He stands up and starts to strip himself of the rest of his clothes. His jeans and underwear both come off together, his stiff cock bobbing up to smack him in the stomach when he stands back up. Now, it appears, it’s Felix’s turn to enjoy the show, because he looks at Sylvain’s cock like it could solve all of life’s problems. 

Sylvain saunters up to Felix and grins. “Like what you see?” he asks, voice sultry, as he hooks his fingers under the top of Felix’s boxer briefs and slides them down, down, down. 

“You’re so embarrassing,” Felix huffs. 

“That’s not a no,” Sylvain says with a little breathless laugh. Now that Felix is bare before him, he finds it literally impossible to keep his hands to himself. He gently urges Felix to lay back on the couch and then starts his exploration, mapping out the dips and curves of Felix’s body with his fingertips. For the moment, he steers clear of Felix’s cock, which is standing proud and leaking against his stomach. Instead he traverses Felix’s chest, pausing to tweak each nipple in turn - which earns him a low groan - and gently runs his fingernails down Felix’s stomach. So slow, with a gentle touch he can tell Felix is getting frustrated with, he runs his hands over Felix’s hipbones and down his legs. 

“Are you going to do anything, or what?” Felix snipes after adjusting his hips, desperate for more friction, for the tenth time. 

Sylvain smiles a cheshire smile. “So impatient,” he purrs from his spot kissing Felix’s knee. He has knelt down next to the couch, but at Felix’s insistence he climbs up until he is straddling Felix’s thighs. He dips down, and the first brush of cock on cock makes his breath hitch in his throat. Felix tips his head back and bites his bottom lip. 

As has been established, the sight of Felix’s collarbones does something wicked to Sylvain’s insides, and he is finding that the smooth column of Felix’s neck is doing just about the same thing. Thus, he is absolutely unable to resist leaning down, hands on either side of Felix’s head so that he is caging Felix with his body, and dragging his tongue up the side of Felix’s neck. Felix makes a noise that goes straight to Sylvain’s cock. 

Dropping his hips, Sylvain starts up a rhythm, the slow, heavy drag of their cocks against each other sending electricity racing up and down his spine. Meanwhile his mouth is busy on Felix’s neck, Sylvain having pretty quickly figured out that Felix has a _thing_ about his neck. 

But apparently Felix also realizes this should be a two-person sport. He hooks an ankle behind Sylvain’s thigh and jerks his hips in time with Sylvain. Little pants and groans escape his lips - Sylvain is absolutely _delighted_ to learn that Felix is more vocal than he would have expected - and his hands roam over Sylvain’s back and ass. When Sylvain ups their pace, Felix keens in his throat and rakes his fingernails down Sylvain’s back, leaving ten perfect red lines in their wake. 

Sylvain kisses him hard, intense. He digs his fingers into Felix’s ponytail and is rewarded with Felix grabbing a handful of his ass, tugging him closer, closer. Then Felix is working a hand between them and Sylvain sees stars when Felix closes his hand around the both of them together and starts to stroke counterpoint to their thrusts, using their commingled precum to smooth the way. 

Swallowing hard, Sylvain breaks the kiss and hovers above Felix, panting. The pleasure is getting just this side of too intense, weeks and weeks of waiting coming to a boil. Felix takes the opportunity to get a hold of Sylvain’s neck, working lips and teeth to leave a collar of bite marks that Sylvain wants very much to show off to the world: proof that he is Felix’s, and Felix’s alone. 

“Just to warn you,” Sylvain breathes, “I’m definitely not going to last much longer - especially if you keep marking me up like that.” He punctuates this with a moan when Felix, sensing the challenge, sucks a particularly vivid bruise onto his neck. Sylvain wants this to last, is downright embarrassed by how quickly this is ending, but he can’t help the way his body is lighting up with each stroke of Felix’s hand.

He can feel Felix’s lips moving on his neck as he murmurs, “I want you to come for me,” and _holy shit_ he is, he is _coming right then at that command_ , shooting messily across Felix’s hand and both of their stomachs with Felix’s name shouted between them. 

Felix keeps up the pace and he must be getting close too judging by the glazed look in his eyes and his red face. Sylvain leans down to whisper into Felix’s ear, “Come on, baby. Come for me too.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do,” Felix hisses, and he looks so embarrassed while Sylvain chuckles against the spot below his ear. Sylvain trails his lips down, ignoring the way he is tilting into oversensitivity, and starts working on Felix’s neck again. It only takes a few more moments before Felix’s hips are jerking and he is coming, his head tilted back against the couch. 

Sylvain slumps against Felix while still trying to keep most of his weight off him. Felix lets go of their cocks and makes a face before wiping his messy hand across Sylvain’s back. For his part, Sylvain just laughs goodnaturedly and kisses along Felix’s jaw before nuzzling his face into his neck. Thoroughly shocking and delighting Sylvain, Felix seems to be an after-sex cuddler. He is running one hand up and down Sylvain’s spine, tilting to press a kiss to the side of Sylvain’s head. 

For a while they just stay like that, sticky and warm and cuddly. But it isn’t long before Felix wrinkles his nose at the mess between them. “We need a shower,” he says.

“Oh ho ho,” Sylvain laughs. “Ready to go again already, sweetheart?”

“I said a shower, not shower sex. And if you don’t stop cracking jokes I will shower without you and you can stay sticky and sweaty.”

“Okay, okay.” Sylvain sits up, then climbs off the couch and reaches a hand down to Felix. “You drive a hard bargain.”

They shower, and while Sylvain can’t _quite_ keep his hands to himself, they manage to clean up without Felix eviscerating him. Afterwards Felix leads Sylvain to his bedroom and digs around in his dresser for something Sylvain can wear.

“You know, I don’t usually wear pajamas,” Sylvain says, hands behind his head, amused. 

Felix looks over at him with a raised eyebrow and a flat look. “Why am I not surprised?” He then ignores Sylvain and pulls on his own pajamas because apparently he does _not_ go without. Sylvain walks over and wraps his arms around Felix’s shoulders to pull him in for a hug. Felix, surprisingly, nestles into it instead of stiffening. 

“Even when I’m here?” Sylvain pouts, plucking at the sweatshirt.

“I get cold in the winter,” Felix mumbles. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Oh, fine,” Sylvain says with a heavy, put-upon sigh. He pauses, running his fingers through Felix’s wet hair. “I guess we didn’t really discuss whether or not I would stay.” He tries to say it casually despite the dread in his stomach that Felix truly doesn’t want him to stay.

Felix looks up at him with an incredulous expression. “What part of me looking for pajamas for you to wear indicated that I wanted you to leave?”

“Well, I mean,” Sylvain hedges, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just saying.”

“You know what I’m saying?” Felix waits for Sylvain’s questioning noise before continuing. “I’m saying you’re a fucking idiot. Now get in bed.”

Sylvain grins, feeling lighter. He lets go of Felix and climbs under the big, fluffy duvet and the soft red sheets. Felix slides in next to him and it only takes a moment for Sylvain to scoot over to him and wrap him up in his arms. Felix presses his forehead to the center of Sylvain’s chest, draping one arm over his hip and tangling their legs together.

“I could get used to this,” Sylvain mumbles against the top of Felix’s head. He is already feeling sleepy, relaxed in the boneless way that comes with being post-orgasm and holding someone you care about in your arms.

“You better,” Felix says, voice muffled against Sylvain’s skin. Sylvain feels the warmth spread from his stomach to his chest to everywhere else in his body. “Now go to sleep.”

Sylvain tucks Felix’s hair behind his ear and then firms his hold on him. “Good night, sweetheart,” he whispers into the darkness. Felix is quiet, probably even drifting off already, and Sylvain has a moment to think.

This… this is what he wants. He wants frantic sex and sweet lovemaking. He wants cuddling and coffee and shared dinners. He wants video games and flirting and little gestures that show Felix he cares. He wants fights that end in snuggles. He wants this warm feeling he’s been near but never quite experienced before, this thing that he feels might come awfully close to love. 

He wants all of that, and he wants it with Felix. 

Based on his behavior? Sylvain thinks that, in his own way, Felix feels the same way.

And that’s just all there is to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. I can't come up with a proper ending to save my life so I hope you enjoyed it despite that. Just the epilogue is left and I am excited about that one! 
> 
> I am SO overjoyed to announce that this fic has fanart!! [Please go look at it](https://twitter.com/shareey0/status/1271984410271707136) and shower love on the artist. I have been writing fanfiction for almost 20 years (shut up, I'm old and I started young) and I have never had the honor of having fanart done for any of my stories. I am just blown away.
> 
> Speaking of being blown away, all of your support absolutely makes my day. You're all making me about 90% sure I'm going to continue with Sylvix stories, whether in this universe (I have two spin-off ideas) or others. Thank you so much for taking the time to read, leave kudos, and comment. You have made this experience an amazing one and I love you all. 
> 
> As a reminder, I am [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/snarkyperson) and, more rarely but still sometimes, [Tumblr](http://aazeris.tumblr.com).


	10. Epilogue

  
**_Six months later_**

The fact of the matter is this: Felix wants Sylvain to move in with him.

A footnote: Felix doesn’t know how to ask without sounding as needy as he feels, and he has an image to maintain.

Felix is reasonably sure Sylvain would say yes. God knows he spends more time at Felix’s apartment than his own these days. Sometimes he even sits in on the streams, sworn to silence, perpetually on good behavior since _that day_ when they both disappeared from 7 Days to Die at the same time and chat wondered, gee, isn’t that coincidental? Felix had gotten the tongue-lashing of the century from Annette after that one, and after a very stern talk with Sylvain, he has not let himself slip again. 

“Yeah but wouldn’t it be funny if everyone found out that the person with the nickname you hate the most is actually your boyfriend?” Sylvain had asked. Needless to say, Felix wholeheartedly disagreed.

There is a part of him, _a very small, quiet_ part of him, that wants to tell everyone. The thing is, Felix is proud of Sylvain. Sure, he’s an idiot, but he’s Felix’s idiot. Felix loves the way he genuinely cares about people. The intelligence that he tries to hide with vapid flirting (Felix still has not managed to break him of this habit). The single-minded devotion he gets for things he’s interested in. His stupid jokes and his deep kisses and everything in between.

Felix loves him. He knew it for a while, knew it way before Sylvain broke down and said it, knew it in his gut even when the words wouldn’t come out. Felix has always been a man of actions. Sylvain knows that, and he never pushed, not once. But Sylvain is a man of words, and when Felix’s guard lowered just enough to grit it out one night when they were walking along the lake, the way his face lit up made Felix regret, just a little, not saying it sooner.

The apartment feels empty when Felix is there alone. Sylvain is such a _presence_. He takes up the whole room and makes it feel warm, comfortable. When he’s not there, every noise echoes, the heat can’t keep up with the cold. 

It’s ridiculous, and Felix hates as much as loves the sensation of adoring Sylvain like this.

So yes, he wants Sylvain to move in with him. He has no idea how to ask directly. He’s been circling around it for at least three weeks, dropping tiny hints that go completely over Sylvain’s head. It’s time for a more concrete plan.

_I want you to move in with me._ That’s all he needs to say. But no, Felix isn’t going to just come out and ask him. That would be too easy, and Felix doesn’t know how to do easy.

It is time for his Friday stream, and Sylvain is at home for it this time. That’s good; Felix doesn’t want to be distracted. He launches all his software, adjusts his mic, and starts.

“Hey, everybody. Today we’re doing something different. We’re going to play The Sims.”

Chat goes wild - both positively and negatively. Overall, it seems like people are curious to see where he is going with this. He wonders where he’s going with this too, and if it will work. Only one way to find out, he guesses.

He spends a good hour designing sims. The “main character,” Hugo, looks like a horrible monstrosity, just in case anyone starts getting _ideas_ about what Felix might look like. The cast of other characters he creates to populate his town look considerably more normal.

Jose Idiot is one of the sims he creates to move in next door to Hugo.

Jose Idiot is also the second sim he makes, so he has plenty of time to receive a text message while he’s in the middle of creating, unknown to his viewers, Annie and Ashe.

**Sylvain** : no way are you making me in the sims?? why is my last name idiot :( :(

Felix ignores him. Finally the cast is complete. He has even put Dimitri in, since they are on… well, relatively decent speaking terms now. He doesn’t wish the man was dead anymore, anyway, so that’s progress. And if this all works out the way he’s hoping--well, he won’t get ahead of himself.

So, there is a narrative. Hugo becomes a criminal mastermind who hatches all sorts of schemes. The whole cast is involved. But there’s an undercurrent, a hidden storyline beneath all the shenanigans, and that is that Hugo is desperately trying to get Jose Idiot to a) fall in love with him and b) move in.

For some reason, _it won’t work_. Jose Idiot rejects all of his advances and, basically, hates him. They build up enemy status; they become nemeses. Felix is getting incredibly frustrated because this is not how he saw this going, and Sylvain is being suspiciously quiet in the chat. 

About half an hour goes by while Felix leaves Jose Idiot alone and focuses on his schemes. But he can’t just give up, so he gets back to it and continues to get rejected for his troubles. Finally, Felix snaps. He invites Jose Idiot over, builds a cage around him, and lets him starve to death. He does not plead with the Grim Reaper to spare his life. As the death unfolds, Felix snarls, “This is what happens to idiots who don’t realize I want them to move in with me.”

The second it is out of his mouth, he regrets it. It is too real, too personal, too close to say on a stream of 2.4k people. He bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood before he composes himself. 

“Anyway, we have other things to do than worry about that moron,” he tries to recover. He goes back to the narrative, but ten minutes later he sees something in the chat that makes his stomach turn.

**ladykiller69** : maybe jose idiot didn’t realize what hugo was trying to say

**ladykiller69** : i bet he would get it now but he’s dead :(

Felix’s heart is lodged firmly in his throat, hammering at top speed. He stares at those words, soaks them in, wonders… did it work? Did Sylvain get it after all?

His question is answered when the stream ends.

**Sylvain** : sweetheart, i would love nothing more than to move in with you <3

\---

Sylvain had a lot of qualms about leaving Claude, especially knowing that he wouldn’t be able to afford the rent on his own, but as he boxes up the last of his stuff and hears the knock on the front door, he smiles. Really, this is the best possible outcome. He wishes he had thought of it himself.

He hears Claude’s easy greeting and Dimitri’s stilted one and Felix’s grunt of hello. While he tapes up the last box, he hears Felix in his bedroom doorway.

“Hey.”

Sylvain looks up and smiles. Still, six months later, the sight of Felix makes his chest seize up just a little bit. He looks especially good today, but then again, Sylvain feels like he looks especially good every day. 

“Hey there, sweetheart. I’m just finishing up. Does Dimitri have a lot to bring up?”

“No.” Felix crosses his arms and frowns. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Are you kidding? This is the best idea ever.”

“It’s just… he’s not exactly stable.” There is worry threading through Felix’s voice, and Sylvain knows Felix would rather cut out his own tongue than admit out loud that he’s worried about Dimitri. 

Sylvain walks over and runs his hands up and down Felix’s arms, coaxing them to his sides and relaxing him a fraction. “Felix, love, you said he’s more stable than you’ve seen him in months. You wouldn’t have come up with this idea if you didn’t think there was merit to it. He’s been wanting to get out of your dad’s house and Claude needs a roommate. It works for everyone.” He pulls Felix into the circle of his arms and rests his cheek on top of his head. 

Felix snuggles into the embrace, sighing. “Just, if something happens, it’s my fault.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. And if it does, we’ll deal with it. Claude’s a big boy; he’ll be fine.” Sylvain tilts back just enough to be able to look at Felix while still holding him. “Besides, I think Claude’s looking forward to it. You know he thinks Dimitri is super hot, right?” he grins.

“Ugh,” Felix says, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Don’t even say something like that to me.”

Sylvain laughs, loud and happy. “Come on. Let’s go get his stuff.”

An hour later, all of Dimitri’s belongings are moved into Sylvain’s old room, and all of Sylvain’s belongings are loaded into Dimitri’s car. Two hours after that, all of Sylvain’s belongings are scattered around Felix’s - no, _his and Felix’s_ \- apartment, the four of them have devoured a pizza, and Dimitri and Claude are standing in front of the car, ready to leave.

Claude claps Sylvain on the shoulder with the world’s warmest smile. “Good luck, buddy,” he says. “Hopefully he doesn’t mind your terrible cooking.”

“Excuse you,” Sylvain huffs, mock-affronted. “He found out about my terrible cooking months ago, thank you very much.” He pulls Claude into a short but heartfelt hug, then steps back and wraps an arm around Felix’s shoulders. “Anyway, I now get to live with the love of my life,” he says, as if this doesn’t make Felix turn bright red and, for appearances, roll his eyes, “so no luck is needed from here on out.”

Dimitri is standing next to the passenger door, twisting his fingers in on themselves and looking equal parts nervous and self-deprecating. Claude walks over to him and, mimicking Sylvain, slings an arm around Dimitri’s shoulders. Dimitri stiffens, single eye wide with surprise and concern, but this doesn’t stop Claude from exclaiming, “Well don’t worry about old Dimitri here. I promise I’ll take good care of him for you.” This is said with an exaggerated wink at Felix, who huffs as if he is annoyed - but Sylvain knows better. Rocky history aside, Sylvain knows Felix cares about the tortured yet gentle giant, in his own way.

“I appreciate you all giving me this chance,” Dimitri says stiffly, formally. “I promise I will do all that I can to justify your trust in me.”

“Whatever,” Felix says with a roll of his eyes. “Are you two leaving yet or what?”

Sylvain laughs, squeezing Felix to his side. “What my dear Felix is trying to say is that we have to christen every surface of his apartment, so he would appreciate some privacy post haste so we can get to it.”

“Sylvain!”

“What?” Sylvain asks Felix innocently, batting his eyelashes before he breaks out into more laughter. “You’re too much fun to rile up, you know that?”

Claude joins in on the laughter, shaking his head. “The sad part is, I know he’s not exactly joking. Well big guy, shall we leave them to it?” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Dimitri says. He steps forward and extends his hand for Sylvain to shake. To Felix he offers nothing, knowing it wouldn’t be welcome or appreciated. Claude gives Sylvain a big hug and cuffs Felix on the shoulder. They get in the car and with two beeps drive off, leaving Sylvain and Felix on the sidewalk.

Sylvain turns toward the house, but Felix stops him with a hand on his wrist. He glances over, eyebrow raised. “Hm?”

Felix isn’t looking at him, which is the real red flag that he’s about to say something that he will hate and Sylvain will love. “Sylvain. I…” He pauses, swallows. “I’m glad you’re here.”

_I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re with me. I’m glad I’m not alone._

Sylvain hears everything said and unsaid, and a soft, warm smile slips onto his lips. He lifts Felix’s hand to his mouth and kisses along his knuckles. “I’m glad to be here, sweetheart,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I love you, you know that?”

Felix smiles, a real, genuine, full-bodied smile that he only shows to Sylvain or, on occasion, Annette. “I know,” he says fondly.

And Sylvain hears it. _I love you too._

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. 
> 
> I have so many mixed feelings right now. I am sad that it's over but happy to have had the most amazing reader engagement I've had on any fic, ever. Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me and for your unwavering support. You are all amazing human beings.
> 
> So, what's next? Well, I started writing a spin-off to this universe already and it might be a proposal fic. I also have an idea for the first time they say I love you. I also have an idea for Sylvain meeting Annie & Ashe/Felix officially meeting Claude. I ALSO set up a potential Dimiclaude offshoot that no one wants but you probably picked that up on your own. And I have a couple of other ideas kicking around outside this universe.
> 
> Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that you can [follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/snarkyperson) or [Tumblr](http://aazeris.tumblr.com) to keep track of these things. 
> 
> Again, I thank you. This has been an amazing ride.


End file.
